Turning Point
by Xenitha
Summary: In the book, Infinite Crisis, Nightwing was originally intended to die by the edict of DC Senior Editor Dan DiDio. Reading the story, I saw by all the foreshadowing that Nightwing's life really was spared at the 11th hour, as DiDio later said. But what if Nightwing had died on schedule?
1. Death

Author's Note: I recently read Infinite Crisis and understand that Nightwing's survival was an eleventh hour decision, made by DiDio as a result of pleading from various Nightwing writers and fans on his staff. I couldn't help wondering, what would have happened if he'd died as planned? After much thought, this story has resulted. Much of the dialogue is taken from the Infinite Crisis book as well as the Nightwing comics. I'll have an end-note when the story finishes to give a list of the comics that I've dipped into for this. I'm hoping to make this as seamless as possible but I gotta admit, Infinite Crisis is a damned complex story. In keeping with my own love of the characters, Batman and Nightwing will be the focus.

And, of course, let me know what you think :) I am a SLUT for reviews

Finally, a big thank you to PJ and Ellen for beta. Any grammatical, spelling, usage or continuity errors are purely mine.

* * *

PART ONE- JUST A GUT FEELING

CHAPTER ONE

The blast hit him in the middle of the chest, turning the rest of the universe brilliant white in a flash. He never felt himself hit the ground. The last thing he heard was Batman's anguished voice calling "Nightwing!"

Dick felt himself being propelled down a bright tunnel of light, flying faster and more easily than he ever had on a trapeze. The joy and warmth of home began to surround him and he reveled in it, feeling vaguely guilty at leaving Batman behind on the battlefield. At last the journey ended and he stood on a lawn of green grass whose plushy texture immediately made him run his fingers through its softness.

"My little Robin?" a familiar voice addressed him.

"Mom?" He looked up and saw his parents smiling at him, joy radiating from their faces. "Mom! Dad!" He rushed into their arms, pushing back the tears of happiness.

John Grayson chuckled and gave his son a bear hug. Mary kissed him, then held him out at arms' length. "How tall you are, Dick! You're all grown up now. And so handsome!"

The reality of his situation had been slowly dawning on Dick. He looked at his parents' faces with a brief frown. "Mom...Dad...you're dead..."

John Grayson grinned. "And so are you, son. Welcome home. We're your welcoming committee. We have so much to show you."

Mary elbowed her husband and gave him a significant look. A shadow passed over John's face. "Well...you're dead for now, anyway. The rest hasn't been entirely decided yet."

"What hasn't entirely been decided? Where are we, anyway?" He glanced around at the endless field of grass without as much as a tree breaking the lushness.

"Honey," Mary took him by the arm. "Do you remember catechism classes when you were young? This is a sort of in-between place, like a limbo. You're not quite in heaven yet. Tathenniel, the Angel of Time is still working it out, whether this is really your destiny."

"Mom, you're not saying I'm here by mistake?" Memories from before began to surface. What had...? Oh yes, Alex Luthor had been aiming a bolt at Batman and Nightwing had jumped in front of it. He'd left Batman and Robin on that battlefield with Luthor. He had to go back. They needed him. "I can't stay here! They need me." He cast a pleading look at his parents.

"Told you he wouldn't want to stay," John said to Mary. "He's always had a strong sense of duty."

Mary, standing with arms folded, looked troubled. "Dick, it isn't your decision. Tathenniel explained to us that a death is required to balance the multiverse and you are the one selected to die."

Dick just stood there, dumbfounded. Then, anger building, he demanded, "Take me to this Tathenniel. I want to know what's going on." He turned on his 'parents'. "I've had some pretty weird experiences in my life. How do I know you really are my parents? How do I know I'm really dead?"

John and Mary Grayson exchanged sad looks. "We should have expected this," he looked over his shoulder. "Boston! You've met our son, Richard. Would you help explain this to him?"

Dressed in his characteristic acrobatic costume, Boston Brand, aka Deadman, strolled through the grass. He reached out his hand and gave Dick's a firm shake. "Hey, Nightwing, good to see you again!"

"Deadman...?" Dick's stomach took a turn as he recognized an old friend.

"Yeah, it's me, in the ghostly flesh," Deadman said cheerfully. "So, it looks like you're joining the club now."

"The war! I can't stay here. I've gotta help Batman, I can't let him down!" Dick said desperately.

"You want to check on him? You can, you know," Boston said and led him over to an equally anonymous spot on the field. "We all keep track of our loved ones. Here..." He waved an arm and a column appeared, filled with moving figures. The picture narrowed and moved in fast to a small cluster of people.

Dick began to hear a familiar voice and realized it was Bruce's. "He's...talking?"

"No, he's thinking," Deadman replied. "We can hear his thoughts."

* * *

BATMAN

"Nightwing!"

For an eternal, searing instant, Batman watched helplessly as a bolt of hellish fire tore through his boy...his son... He'd had a gut feeling for months that death was hanging over Dick somehow, and he'd done his best to protect him but ultimately he'd ignored the premonition as unscientific and counter-productive.

Bad enough that the boy had been trying to get himself killed for the past half year to somehow atone for his role in the murder of Roland Desmond, aka Blockbuster. Dick had racked up injury after injury with more close calls than Batman could count.

Later, after a radioactive monster, Chemo, had been set loose on Bludhaven, Batman had gotten a radio call to the batcave from Superman. "Bruce, I just saw Nightwing in Bludhaven. You have to get him out of here. He's in a radiation 'hot' zone without adequate protection," Superman's voice said urgently.

"Did you talk to him?" Batman asked, reluctant to step in. Dick had been very touchy about his own independence since moving out of the Manor.

"Yes, and the idiot refuses to leave! His suit was already starting to melt when I saw him. If you don't get him out of there, he'll die," Superman said.

"What's his last known location?" Batman asked crisply, activating the batplane's pre-flight, feeding it Superman's coordinates and hitting Alfred's call button. "I'm on my way. And Clark, thanks."

Alfred responded promptly while Batman was finishing pre-flight. "Can I help you sir?"

"Yes, I'm going after Nightwing; he's in Bludhaven. Ready the med-bay, would you? Also, call WayneTech. They've been working on a new treatment for radiation sickness. Get a supply with dosing instructions."

Alfred's eyebrows lifted. "Is Master Dick in difficulty, sir?"

"Yes." Bruce slid into the cockpit and took off. Later, he'd found Dick buried under a pile of plaster and lathe in a derelict building. His own suit's dosimeter was reading hazardous levels; he had to hurry. Slinging Nightwing over his shoulder, he made his way to the aircraft and left the area as quickly as he could.

Back at the batcave, the boy woke up after several doses of the experimental medicine. Thanks to the fast-acting nature of the drug, Dick was burned but otherwise wouldn't have lasting effects. Bruce considered the research money well-spent.

When Alfred advised him that Dick was conscious and trying to leave, Bruce sighed and decided that it was time to finally have it out. When he got to the medbay, the boy was going on about Blockbuster's death and his own culpability for it.

Batman finally lost his temper. "Are you still not ready to discuss this honestly?"

"Wha..what? Wait! What are you talking about?" For a man in his early twenties, Dick looked too much like the perplexed and hurt eight year old Bruce had taken in all those years ago. Bruce softened, then steeled himself. Letting him off easy wouldn't work.

"I'm talking about you! You've been trying to kill yourself for the past six months!" Batman stabbed a long finger in Dick's face.

"No...I...Bruce, it's not like that!" Dick looked like he was about to cry.

The boy looked so broken, Bruce almost toned it down, then remembered the tally: two gunshot wounds in six months and now this. No, he had to knock some sense into Dick's head or he would succeed in getting himself killed. "You lost sight of the value of Roland Desmond's life. If you need me to forgive you for that, I probably can. But it won't mean anything until you forgive yourself. And you have no right to expect me to excuse you, for losing sight of the value of **yours**!"

After that, Dick had been quiet, thinking over what Batman had said. They'd even managed to persuade him to rest for a couple of days until he was mostly over the radiation sickness. He'd hoped that Dick was finally seeing sense.

Of course, when Bludhaven was hit with another set of explosions, Nightwing had gone right back to the beleaguered town. Batman couldn't resist checking on him and hoped that another mission would pull him away from the nuclear hot spot.

Batman landed on a plot of land across the bay from Bludhaven. As he set down, another explosion rocked the area. Fortunately, the radiation wasn't heavy enough to fog the GPS, so he found Nightwing taking cover nearby.

"Bruce? What are you doing here?" Nightwing's voice conveyed a mix of guilt and irritation. He knew how Bruce felt about his coming back here, especially without the bulky hazmat suit which the environment required but the acrobat hated.

Feeling guilty himself, Bruce stuttered out, "I wanted to make sure...you're all right..."

"I was in New York when it hit. Got here as soon as I could," Dick replied.

In a pig's eye, Bruce added silently.

"I need to get back in there!" Dick added, putting the binoculars to his eyes.

"Wait," Bruce said, almost desperately.

Dick gave him a side glance. "This is just one of hundreds of disasters right now. Superman's already in the heart of it, along with a dozen others who can stand the radiation. They're looking for survivors. They aren't finding any."

"I need to talk to you about the survivors of something else. I need your help, Dick," Batman hoped that the urgency in his voice would pull Dick away from the toxic city that had almost killed him once. "I'll explain it in the Batcave."

To his relief, Dick nodded and followed him back from the brink and to the waiting batplane.

* * *

BATCAVE

Nightwing stared at the screen in disbelief. "You think this is a coordinated assault. You think they blew up Bludhaven to distract us? They killed millions!"

"They're aiming for a lot more than that!" Batman said grimly.

"All so some alternate Superman can destroy our Earth and replace it with his?"

"You can see he's not working alone. There's a Superboy that was responsible for the attack on Martian Manhunter. And that Superboy was talking to a Luthor." Batman stared at the screen, jaw working.

" 'A' Luthor? This is insane, Bruce. Why would a Superman risk everything?"

Batman thought he understood the motivation. "To save someone he loves."

"Why come to me?" Dick asked skeptically.

"Because everyone else trusts you. They always have. You've put an importance on keeping up relationships that I neglected. You care." C'mon, Dick, this has got to be safer than trying to dig out Bludhaven!

"So do you," Dick replied. "You just let everyone think different...Look...communications are down across most of the East Coast, but there's a place I can contact everyone from out West. Titans Tower. I'm going to borrow the batplane. You coming?"

"I've got a computer problem I still need to fix. Then we regroup," Batman replied.

"Sounds good." Dick threw him his old daredevil grin.

"Dick.." That gut feeling was back again...

"Yeah?" Dick waited patiently for another instruction.

Suddenly Bruce needed to know. After all the strife, the arguments, the shouting. "The early years. I've forgotten if...They were good for you, weren't they?"

"The best." With a carefree wave, Dick climbed into the cockpit and was off.

* * *

DICK GRAYSON

"Why me? I don't belong here; not yet," Dick argued, fighting down the urge to throttle Deadman, standing next to him. "You haven't answered my question."

"Perhaps I can help," a deep, rumbling voice replied. Dick turned to see a tall, shining being standing quietly next to Boston Brand. "You've been told by your parents about your unique destiny, I can see."

"Right. My destiny to be some kind of sacrificial lamb," Dick spat out.

The being's luminous eyebrow raised and he said gently, "Don't mock sacrificial lambs. They have their place in the Balance." His eyes filled with compassion, he smiled. "You may call me Tathenniel. I'm in charge of Time, generally, and the Balance always."

Dick blinked, trying to get a clearer image of Tathenniel's constantly shifting form. First he saw a silvery glow obscuring a tall thin figure, then he thought he saw wheels clashing which morphed into tall wings..."Why can't I see you clearly?"

"You already see me to your present capacity," Tathenniel replied. "I'm not entirely here, but this portion of my being should be enough for us to communicate. Now, I understand that you have questions?"

Dick shook his head but his eyes still didn't clear. Questions. Right. "Yeah, am I dead or not? 'Cause if I'm not, I really need to get back to Batman. And Deadman, here, is showing me a bunch of Batman's memories that don't make sense...Oh yeah, and why me?"

"Let's start with the easy question, shall we?" Tathenniel said. "There are two individuals who are suitable to restore the Balance in the multiverse. Either death will influence the future enough to trigger a series of small changes, which will result in a stabilized multiverse once more. You are one of those individuals."

"Who is the other person?" Dick asked. Maybe there was a way out of this?

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that. The analysis of the other person's potential timeline is being conducted as we speak. We haven't yet decided who shall live and who shall die. But I can say that your line looks most favorable," Tathenniel bestowed his glowing smile on Dick.

"Oh, for life?" Dick asked.

"Oh no, for your death," Tathenniel said.


	2. Tell Me Why

CHAPTER 2

"But why me?" Dick asked.

"Why not you?" Tathenniel asked. "But admittedly, you do have some special qualities which make you suitable..." He waved his hand and movement in the column began again. The shadowy figures solidified. Dick could see Batman in the batcave and a second person who looked like Superman, but years older. He recognized him. It was Kal-L, the superman from an alternate world who was partnering with Alexander Luthor and Superboy Prime to destroy Earth One in favor of creating Kal-L's perfect Earth Two.

"Bruce...I'm offering you a chance to start over," the old Superman was saying. "None of this is your fault."

"No...," Bruce said in a low voice. "It is."

"Everything you've done, everything you set in motion, is because you felt you couldn't trust the people around you. And you know what? You can't. But on my Earth, it's different." Kal-L glowed with confidence.

"What happens to everyone on this earth when yours comes back?" Batman asked.

"They'll be folded into the historical fabric," Superman said.

Batman turned away. "You mean, they'll die," he said, voice gravelly.

"No. They'll be replaced. Just as everyone on my earth was. But they'll be better. I never lie, Bruce," Superman said earnestly.

Batman looked back over his shoulder. "And what about Dick Grayson?"

"Yes?"

"You said this Earth corrupts everything. Is the Dick Grayson of **my Earth** a corrupted version of yours?"

Kal-L's face fell and a look of deep regret crossed his features. "No."

"I didn't think so," Batman said and turned around with a kryptonite ring on his finger.

* * *

The figures faded into a swirl of color again at Tathenniel's signal. "As you see. Your suitability is glaringly obvious, even to the misguided Kal-L."

"If I'm so perfect, why do you have to kill me?" Dick asked skeptically. "This is hardly a reward for trying to do good during my life."

"True enough. Your life has been one of sacrifice; as your mentor has noted, you often put others before yourself even to your own detriment. Another sacrifice is being demanded of you now, depending on the results of the timeline scan. But in any event, do you dislike being dead? I hope you're noticing that the twinge in your lower back that's been bothering you has disappeared. The air is fresh here, you are surrounded by beauty. You enjoyed greeting your parents. And you do have other friends here." Tathenniel gestured again and Dick saw Stephanie laughing in a swimming pool. Then Clancy drinking in an Irish pub, then he caught a glimpse of...

"Mr. and Mrs. Wayne? Bruce's parents...! They're golfing..."

"Yes, and they've become acquainted with your parents. They met when Bruce Wayne took you in and have been watching over you both for years."

Dick glanced back at his parents, waiting patiently behind him. Deadman stood smiling next to them. "You have to admit, Nightwing, it's a nice place. And this is only Limbo," Deadman said. "Once you're really dead, I understand it only gets better."

Dick turned, feeling guilty at wanting to leave his parents after missing them for so long. "Mom, Dad, I'm sorry...it's just that Bruce needs me. Especially now. I can't abandon him."

John Grayson sighed. "Dick, I understand. Your mother and I have watched your life for years. We know about Batman and Robin and there isn't anyone we could have chosen for your guardian better than Bruce Wayne. He's a good man. But Wayne's mission..."

"Oh, Dick, the danger you've been in," Mary interrupted. "And the hurts you've had," she reached out a hand, touching his shoulder. "Can you blame us for being grateful that you're safe at last?" She gestured toward the pillar, its action frozen. "Do you think we want you to go back to that?"

The picture had frozen at the instant that Batman lunged at Kal-L with the kryptonite ring. "You must know by now, Son, that death isn't the worst thing you can experience." John Grayson asked, walking toward the pillar. "In your life, from the time we died, at eight years old, you've seen and experienced the worst evils that man can do." He frowned deeply. "And some of it was done to you by the villains you two fought. Your Batman hasn't been able to protect you the way I'd have liked. This isn't what I'd planned for my boy."

"We know that he adopted you, Dick," Mary said. "And that's fine with us. He's loved you like a father. But we think that...well, you've suffered enough."

Dick gave them a troubled glance. "You're asking me to choose between my parents. Bruce has loved and supported me since you two were taken from me. I can't tell you how many times I was afraid I'd lose him, too." He gave the pillar a bleak look. "If I lost Bruce...I don't know what I'd do. Sometimes he's like a father and other times he's like the big brother I never had. I can't just leave him all alone like that. I can't..."

Tathenniel shook his head. "You aren't being given a choice, Dick. I am the one who chooses, for the good of the multiverse. Let us continue the timeline review." At a gesture the pictures recommenced.

* * *

Dick saw himself at the Titans Tower in San Francisco, putting through a call to everyone he knew, "Repeat! This is Nightwing. Everyone's gathering at Titans Tower. We're going to take on those who're responsible for threatening our home together. This is our last stand. This is it."

An hour later, he stood in the silent, empty Titans Tower. "This is it," he said in a low voice. The few responses he'd gotten showed that the Titans were already busy across the planet, saving lives and defending the inhabitants.

He heard a blast of thunder outside and saw a million Earths in the black sky. He ran out under the sky and gulped at the sheer size and number of the glowing planets suspended overhead.

"Nightwing," a familiar voice said and Conner dropped lightly down behind him. "What the hell is going on?"

"The skies are filling up with parallel earths." He looked with gratitude at Conner. If he only had one Titan present, thank goodness it was the most powerful one.

"I can see that," Conner replied, looking up. "How?"

"I'm not exactly sure. But it's got to be connected to the Superboy that attacked you. He was the one who blew up the watchtower and took Martian Manhunter. He was involved in some kind of plan to replace our Earth."

"You know who these psychos are, right?" Conner's fists were flexing.

"Yeah," Dick heard himself say.

"Well, I know where they are." Conner took out a long shard of crystal. Nightwing could see bodies and forms swirling inside it. "Everybody else inside?"

"It's just us," Nightwing said ruefully.

"You gotta be kiddin' me. What do you want to do?" Conner asked.

"What we have to. Let's shut these guys down," Nightwing replied.

* * *

The picture shifted and swirled, then focused on Nightwing and Conner, crouched on a snowy glacier overlooking a frozen plain. Rising from it was a tall golden tower blazing with light and energy. Earths clustered above it, popping into existence and then winking out again.

"This is the center, the control-place, from which Alexander Luthor is controlling his project," Tathenniel said calmly. "He literally plucks the earths from the aether, combines them, destroys them. Millions are born and die in a second when he deems them unacceptable...imperfect."

Even though he knew that the edifice had been destroyed, Nightwing could feel his body go still. "Those were my friends, powering that thing." He turned to Tathenniel. "I already know what happened there. Show me Batman."

"Patience, Dick," Tathenniel said. "Your earth was splintered into a multiverse made of thousands of worlds. The earths become weaker and weaker as they are divided. If not reunited quickly, the entire universe would explode into a new big bang, destroying everything. The key to the balance of the whole is..."

"Yeah, I know. Me. Or somebody else." Nightwing said impatiently.

"One life is the turning point," Tathenniel said and the pictures began to move again. "So very much depends on it."

* * *

This time, Bruce was in a small metal room, a cramped space surrounded with computer screens. Suddenly, Dick recognized it as the interior of Brother Eye, the spy satellite that Batman had built. He knew that the plague of OMACs had been caused by the rogue satellite, hordes of ordinary people transformed into warrior robots that killed at Brother Eye's command. Somebody had highjacked Brother Eye's programming. He knew that Bruce had planned to fix that, personally.

The screens showed different scenes, of heroes fighting.

"_Your friends will fail, Creator," _a computer voice spoke softly.

"My friends can take care of themselves," Batman said calmly, unpacking a small toolkit and getting down to business. That feeling was hovering over him again; those he loved were in terrible danger.

"_The others on your Earth. Martian Manhunter..."_

Batman briefly saw the screens flash with each hero that Brother Eye named.

"..._Power Girl..."_

Each of a hundred screens suddenly flashed to life. Batman's eyes shifted to the screens, seeing Nightwing in a dozen battles.

_"And your favorite...Subject Beta-Grayson, Richard-Nightwing."_

If Brother Eye had wanted Batman's attention, he had it now.

"_He is only flesh and blood...Against a boy of steel. " _Brother Eye's voice carried gloating threat. _"Eye wonder...Will you blame yourself for what happens next...?"_

Batman felt sweat dripping down his face and off his chin as he watched the Enemy, Superboy Prime, the one who wanted to destroy Earth...

Nightwing and Conner were perched on a tall golden tower, trying to dismantle it, their backs to the OMACs who would try to pull them down. Next to the tower, Alex Luthor in shining golden armor, continued plucking worlds from the sky. As he pulled one down and crushed it, more planets winked out. With a loud, sonic boom, Superboy Prime swooped down against Nightwing, tossing him off the tower. With difficulty, Nightwing landed four stories down on the packed dirt, escrima sticks at the ready. He watched calmly as his death swooped down on him from the sky. He knew how powerful Kal-El, his Superman was. He doubted he'd survive this encounter if he didn't get some backup. He'd seen what Superboy had done to those other heroes; torn limb from limb, heads crushed. He'd always known that a clean death was unlikely for him as long as he stood with Batman, but at least he'd go out fighting.

Superboy Prime gave Nightwing a scornful smile. "Nightwing? Come on now, you actually think you can fight me? All those Titans did, too. Those stupid Titans!" His voice lowered to a malicious whisper. "I wasn't even_ trying_ last time..." Eyes glowing the red of hot coals, Superboy Prime launched himself at the insignificant man who stood before him.

Heart in his mouth, Batman's work slowed as he watched Superboy Prime attack his son.


	3. Crossing the Line

CHAPTER 3

The multiple screens went blank. Cursing under his breath, Batman heard Brother Eye's voice. _"Even as you tear my 'brain' apart, eye am transferring my memory to the thousands of computers on board this satellite. You are wasting your time, Creator."_

Detaching a final wire, Batman looked up. "No, Brother Eye, I'm wasting yours. I'm not here to erase your memory. I'm here to distract you. I built you. And I put in a limited propulsion system designed to help adjust your orbit." He got up from the chair and moved toward the airlock. "One of my friends just activated that system. You've just been thrown out of orbit. It's over." Now to get the hell out of here and find out what's happened to Dick...

_"N0101010110! If eye fall, Subject Alpha-Bruce Wayne-Batman. You will fall with me.."_

Dick watched the satellite begin to blaze in the atmosphere with Bruce in it. He stepped forward, trying to catch the image with his bare hand. Tathenniel caught him by the wrist before he could touch anything. "Watch, Dick..."

As he watched, a Green Lantern plucked Batman from the satellite, encasing him in a green bubble. He heard Batman's voice, demanding, "Do you remember where Superman's fortress used to be? Fly us down there, Jordan."

Bruce's thoughts echoed out of the column again. Got to get there, fast. The feeling is back, stronger than ever. Something is going to happen. Got to stop it!

* * *

The view shifted to ground zero near the golden tower. Alex continued to pull, combine and destroy planets, muttering to himself under his breath. Conner swept in and put Superboy Prime into a headlock before he could touch Nightwing. Struggling in the air, Cassie joined Conner against Superboy Prime. When Cassie dropped, Conner moved in.

"I let you judge me. Beat me down. But you go after my girlfriend? You go after my family? After my world? No way! No DAMN WAY!" With that he threw a powerful punch at Superboy Prime's jaw and followed it up with two more and a kick before Prime could recover. Slinging Superboy Prime over his shoulder, got a running start, and shoved them both into the tower.

A cascade of golden fire erupted from the side of the tower and it began to crumble. Nightwing stood at the base, suddenly surrounded by people who had been transformed from the Omacs they'd been, back into ordinary people again. Hearing the rumbling noise, he began to pick them up and move them away from the building. It was all coming down soon in a rain of fire.

In a catastrophic explosion of fire and molten metal, the tower erupted. It tossed Cassie, Nightwing and Conner in three different directions and collapsed into a mountain of metal shards. Superboy and Alex Luthor could be seen streaking away into the sky.

* * *

"Wait!" Dick shouted at Tathenniel, running for the column. "Wait! I remember now. Conner died. You can't kill him, he's needed. You can't let Conner die!"

The angel stopped him again before he could touch the images. "You don't want Conner to die?" he asked gently.

"No! He's Tim's best friend. After all the losses Tim's had, to lose Conner too...!" Dick turned a stricken face at Tathenniel. "Tim's already lost his parents, then Stephanie...died...You can't take his best friend away from him now." Dick paused, eyes widening as realization hit. "That's what you meant, isn't it? The second life..." He turned back, looking at the explosion frozen in space and time. "Conner is the other person, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so, Dick," Tathenniel answered. "But he doesn't die in this timeline. This is the 'what if' showing your death, not his."

Dick was silent, taking it in. Finally, he said, "Okay. Show me what happens next."

"As you wish," Tathenniel said and the column began again.

* * *

Dick saw himself and Cassie running frantically across a field of debris. Cassie found him first, looking semi-conscious in the debris. "Just hang in there, okay?" She said, feeling for a pulse. "You did it, Conner. You saved the Earth. You saved everyone."

Conner grinned. "I know, Cass. Isn't it cool?"

"Conner! Hey, Bro! You saved the planet," Nightwing crouched next to him. "You look kinda battered, think I should maybe call Doc Mid-Nite?"

"Naaaaah," Conner answered. "It's just a bruise or two. Give me a good sunbath and I'll be fine in the morning." He levered himself up and stood up shakily. "Might need to get my jeans pressed, though."

"Conner! Man, you had me worried!" Robin ran up to the little group. "You okay?"

"Take more than that little sneak to knock me down," Conner replied. "I'm fine, Robin."

"Hey, look who's here," Nightwing said, pointing over his shoulder. "The cavalry's arrived. Good thing you had it all under control."

Batman, Wonder Woman and Superman came striding through the rubble. Cass nudged herself under Conner's arm and helped to prop him up.

"We should have been here," Superman said. "We should have been here to help you." He glanced around. "But it looks like you did just fine without us." He scanned Conner quickly. "Nothing broken, but you'll be sore for a few days."

"Some of Ma Kent's food and I'll be fine," Conner's grin got broader. "And some time with my girl."

Green Lantern drew even with them. "I hate to break this up, but I just got word from J'onn. The reports my ring's picking up are right. The Society has broken open every metahuman prison on the planet. They're declaring war on us. They say that if Superman's city falls, the others will follow."

"All right," Batman said. "It's Metropolis now." He looked around. "I seem to have left my aircraft at home..."

"I'll give you a lift," Superman said with a smile. "You up to taking on passengers, Kon-El? Cassie?"

Cassie was busily brushing down his clothing but Conner looked up with a broad grin. "Not a problem. Nightwing? Robin?"

"You take Robin," Cassie said, brushing the dust off her hands. "I'll get Nightwing. You ready for your flight to Metropolis?"

"Oh yeah," Nightwing said, eyeing the destruction around him.

"I'll take him, if he doesn't mind," an abashed looking Kal-L said. "Superman, Batman, I'm sorry. I was terribly mistaken. I thought your Superboy was unworthy of the symbol I built. I've been watching the battles and especially Kon-El...I only ever wanted to make the earth a better place. I thought I knew the answer. But I picked the wrong Superboy to condone and the wrong one to condemn. Kon-El, I apologize," he reached out a hand and Kon-El shook it. "I was mistaken about you and about the heroes of this world." He turned to Nightwing. "Shall we go?"

* * *

The images swirled again, then showed the city of Metropolis at war. Kal-L dropped Nightwing off next to Batman, when Superman tapped Kal-L on the shoulder and pointed. They both showed identical glares, matched by Conner a moment later when he landed. Doomsday, the monster that had killed Superman was brought back to life again and was supported by an army of villains, organized into an army.

Heroes were gathering around the Supermen, preparing to make their stand.

Superman curled his hands into fists. "They tried to murder Superboy. And now they say they're going to take _my_ city. Then they're going to take earth. I say...LIKE HELL!"

Nightwing himself was part of the charge, focusing on the members of the Society of Villains.

* * *

Nightwing watched the battle shown in the column and saw himself, Tim and Batman surrounding a Slade Wilson held at bay. "The Society of Villains was Alex Luthor's last hope to create the new Earth he wanted," Tathenniel remarked conversationally. "The Tower was destroyed. Superboy Prime was on the run, chased by the other Supermen. Slade Wilson, the primary tactician for the Society was the brains behind the Society. Bring him down and the Villains become what they were when they started, an unruly mob."

"Batman had him pegged from the beginning," Nightwing commented. "He has always been better at seeing the entire picture than any of us." He smiled ruefully. "Except, maybe, for Tim."

The images continued.

* * *

Batman strode forward, saying "You joined the Society of Villains. You killed Phantom Lady. You destroyed Bludhaven. Why do it, Deathstroke?"

Deathstroke neatly avoided Nightwing's attack, driving him back with a loud "Whakk!" and replied, "Because they're paying me, Batman."

"No, it's something else. You've abandoned your code of honor," Batman dove for Deathstroke and plowed a fist into the man's chin. "Why?"

Deathstroke raised sword in both hands overhead, about to strike down Batman. Nightwing put Deathstroke into a headlock and gritted out, "Because his family abandoned him. He lost his sons. His daughter."

Deathstroke, fighting hard, spat out at Nightwing, "Because of **you**. It's always been because of you."

"You need to take some responsibility, Slade," Tim came from behind and kept Deathstroke from getting Nightwing with the sword.

"We all do," panted Batman, laying Deathstroke out with a punch before Scarecrow could help him. Batman glared at the shabby figure and Scarecrow ran. One final blow and Deathstroke lay prone on the ground. "It's over, Deathstroke," Batman said, standing over him.

Unseen by them, Alexander Luthor approached on a float platform. "Do you realize what you've **done**? You've damned this Earth." His golden fists glowed with white hot power. He raised his hand and said, "You've ruined everything."

The Nightwing in the column saw Luthor raise his hand, saw the power glowing eye-searingly bright and where it was aimed. "BATMAN! Look OUT!" and dove forward to push Batman out of the way.

"NIGHTWING!" Batman's anguished voice rang over the field as Nightwing crumpled to the ground, chest a charred and smoking ruin. Robin, face pale, sped over to Nightwing's side, frantically searching for a pulse.

"My power...I need more power." Luthor muttered and began to move away.

"No! No one else dies! Not because of you!" Batman shouted, trying to move in on him. A nearby building, weakened by the battles finally gave way and crumbled, burying the area in debris.

Robin, huddled beside Nightwing's body, saw the concrete come down on top of Batman as more Villains Society members ran through the gap. "BATMAN!" he screamed, then turned to face the onslaught.

A huge green monster, Killer Croc, sneered as Robin desperately put himself in front of Nightwing. "Look what we got here, Robin and Nightwing...Fresh meat!"

Robin took a defensive stance, prepared to die messily if necessary. A shout came from behind the Villains and Tim grinned to see a huge green elephant among them. Gar! "Not with the Titans around!" Gar led the charge as the Titans swept the area, chasing the villains in front of them. The area was soon clear. Then Robin noticed the rubble begin to move. He was torn between helping Batman or keeping his post beside Nightwing. He decided to stay beside his brother, but was relieved when Batman stood up from the debris and began to run towards them.

Suddenly trembling with reaction, Tim crouched down next to Nightwing..He pulled his glove off and kept looking for a pulse, when he found Dr. Midnite at his elbow and Batman closing in.

Midnight began searching Nightwing's body for signs of life but stopped when he saw the ruin that had been his chest. He dutifully checked the carotid artery for a pulse, but the body was already cooling.

"Dr. Mid-Nite? Is Nightwing...?" Tim asked in a quavering voice.

"I'm sorry, Robin, Batman," Dr. Midnite said. "I'm truly sorry..."

Batman crouched down, reaching a trembling hand towards Nightwing's bloody face. He ran his hand down Nightwing's cheek, feeling the cool of his son's cheek beneath the congealing blood. Glancing to one side, he saw Tim huddled on the ground with his hands covering his face, cape all but covering him. He laid a hand on Tim's shoulder and felt it quivering with the boy's sobs.

Behind them came a scrabbling sound. Batman turned abruptly, his building rage suddenly burning white-hot. Alexander Luthor, the author of this calamity, had pulled himself from the wreckage and was trying to creep away silently.

Batman took a last glance at his son's face and strode purposefully toward Alex Luthor. He scooped up a gun lying in the dirt near Luthor and quickly checked it. Loaded.

Luthor began to talk as Batman approached. "We're not so different, Bruce. Your parents were murdered. You work to make the streets they were killed on safe. My earth was murdered. I work to make the universe it was killed in safe..." Alex began to back away from the fury on Batman's face.

"You think too small. You save street corner by street corner. You work too hard for too little," Alex stammered out.

"Hnnnn.." Batman merely grunted, remembering Dick's face and broken body.

"But you finally decided to take a shortcut with Brother Eye. You just weren't going to take it far enough..." Luthor, eyes on the gun, backed further. "You need to learn to take shortcuts to justice."

Tim's grief-stricken face swam before Batman's eyes. He drew up to Alex Luthor and decked him with a single powerful blow, then crouched over him with gun in hand.

"Dick didn't deserve that," Batman growled and cocked the gun, holding it in both hands pointed at Luthor's head. "What do you deserve?"

Jaw working, clearly fighting with himself, Batman held the gun pointed then moved it until it almost touched Luthor's forehead.

A soft voice came from behind him. "Bruce," Wonder Woman said.

She strode over, sword in hand and an endless grief in her eyes. She had killed. She knew the rage. She knew the aftermath. Memories of an eight year old boy, mourning his newly murdered parents ran through his mind. The laughter that ran through the batcave when a young Dick Grayson became Robin. The bright presence Dick had been in his shadowed life...

"It's not worth it," Wonder Woman said and tossed her sword with a loud clang. Batman saw it break on a chunk of concrete.

Almost..almost...he almost listened to her. Then he remembered his son. His son. The brightness destroyed, wiped out in a second by an unthinking, uncaring _insect _of a man...

Hands trembling, he pulled the trigger and felt the solid backlash of the weapon as it took Alexander Luthor out of this life.


	4. Grief

Author's Note: BIG thanks to my betas, PJ and Ellen. If I goofed up the canon it's purely my mistake because they know everything!

And also a warning-this is a TWO hanky chapter...;)

PART II: MOURNING

Chapter 4

Batman stood over the dead body of Alexander Luthor, a neat bullet hole centered in the villain's forehead. Eyes fixed on Luthor's face, Batman felt the triumph fade away leaving nothing behind but searing pain. What he felt when his parents died was nothing to this. The light in his life was gone, gone forever. He felt a gentle hand take the pistol and throw it far away. He turned to look at Wonder Woman and saw the tears streaking her face.

Batman gave Luthor a last cold look and turned to Diana. "You know that it had to be done," he said flatly.

She nodded. "I know why you did it. I understand, Bruce, but the price you'll pay for it..."

Batman shrugged, firmly pushing the dark emotions down. Silently, he began to stumble toward the pocket of dirt where Dick still lay. Wonder Woman walked with him, arm wrapped around his waist. Tim hadn't moved, he was still huddled next to Nightwing's body, his body shaking with sobs.

Batman knelt beside him. He gently lifted his eldest child into his arms, absently wiping the blood off his face and closing the staring blue eyes. Holding him against his heart, he began rocking back and forth. Wonder Woman stood quiet guard over the three. The sounds of battle faded as heroes gradually arrived. The word had spread fast; Nightwing had had many friends.

Superman and Conner flew in, landing swiftly. Conner saw what had happened, ran to Tim and put an arm around him. Supergirl settled on Tim's other side to grieve with him. Superman and Wonder Woman stood on either side of Batman, their hands resting on their friend's shoulders.

"This can't be true," a loud voice was heard declaiming. Arsenal, his uniform tattered almost to rags, strode forward until he stopped suddenly at the sight of the Bat cradling his burden. When he saw who was being mourned, he was silenced. Green Arrow came up quietly behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Not Nightwing," Roy muttered to Ollie. "He was the best of us. They can't kill him. They can't..." Roy fell silent, ran an arm across his streaming eyes then pulled his mask off in frustration, dropping it to the ground.

Donna moved in next to him, tears running down her face, then Kory, her fiery green eyes dimming. The rest of the Titans, old and new, filtered around them and stood quietly.

Superman exchanged glances with Wonder Woman. The crowd had topped a hundred silent heroes and he knew that Bruce would rather mourn in private. He leaned over Batman and murmured softly, "Bruce, let me have him. I'll take him somewhere safe. It's time to go."

Batman looked up at Superman, eyes blazing. "I'll take him. Nobody else touches him." He settled Dick into his arms and stood slowly. The boy was suddenly much heavier than he had ever been before, but Batman knew that he would carry this weight until the day he died.

Son in his arms, he walked from the battlefield. Tim patted his friends' shoulders, straightened and followed behind. Batgirl broke from the crowd, falling into step with Tim. Another figure, in a red hood, took its place behind them. Batman stopped and looked at the red hooded hero, then nodded slowly and kept walking. The crowd of heroes fell in behind and followed.

* * *

"You can't do that! You've just destroyed him," Dick said with tears streaming down his face. "My God, Jason's death almost broke him. He won't recover from this..."

"Grief is the lot of every man," Tathenniel said softly. "That's what it means to be human. Even immortals suffer from it. Surely Bruce Wayne has learned to deal with his own losses by now?"

"You don't know him," Dick said shakily, wiping at the tears. "You don't know what he's just done...He's broken his most cherished code. Not killing is how he defines himself as one of the good guys. He'll never forgive himself for this." He turned to the angel. "Send me back. You have to send me back. I've got to tell him I'm okay... Please."

"The review isn't finished. And remember that Bruce has been given free will like every other part of creation. He makes his own choices in life, choices that are not your responsibility as much as you'd like them to be." Tathenniel eyed Dick closely. "Would you rather not know? You can join your parents in a place of waiting, entirely ignorant of the results of your death."

Dick's jaw tightened and his eyes grew determined. "No. I'm staying. Besides, if you're the one running things I still have a chance to convince you. Where's Barbara in all this? Is she all right?"

"Very well then," Tathenniel said. "Let us continue."

* * *

The column settled again and showed Barbara Gordon at a computer desk in a shadowed room. She was calling up the lists of the missing, captured, injured and dead. She ran a finger over the screen, reading that Batman was missing, Superman missing, Nightwing...dead. She stopped and read the line again. She got a ruler out of the drawer and held it up to the screen to make sure that the other end of Dick's line actually read 'dead'. Confirmed. She put the ruler down and covered her mouth with both her hands. "Dick..."

She put through a call to Dinah.

"Oracle, I've been trying to reach you all evening," Black Canary broke in before the video picture had settled. "Have you heard...?"

"About Nightwing? Dinah...please tell me it's all a mistake. He's just gotten the crap beaten out of himself again, right?" Barbara said, rubbing her eye with her left hand and stopping to see the sparkle of the ring there. Her hand started shaking and she laid it flat onto the desk top.

"I'm sorry, Babs but he's...not coming back. It's true...Batman was there when it...happened. Alex Luthor fired an energy blast at Batman and Dick threw himself in front of it. He...he died saving Batman. He died a hero." Black Canary stared at Babs from the screen, afraid of the look on Babs's face.

Babs curled her left hand into a fist. "And where is _that_ posturing red-headed scumbag?"

Dinah paused, as if telling an shameful family secret. "Oracle, Batman took off after him and shot Luthor between the eyes. Even Wonder Woman couldn't stop it. After that...Batman ran back to Nightwing and...Barbara, I've never seen Batman like that..." Her voice trembled. "I was there beside Ollie and Roy...Batman wouldn't let anyone touch Nightwing. He just lifted him up and carried him out of Metropolis. Then he called some aircraft-the batwing? They all got in and flew away; back to the batcave, Ollie says. That's all I know, Babs. Babs?"

"I've gotta go, Dinah," Barbara said, taking off her headset and beginning to shut down the computers. "I'll catch up with you later."

Just before the screen shut down, Black Canary could be seen shaking her head and saying, "Oh Barbara, I'm so sorry..."

Barbara left a single, shielded screen open. "Oracle to Robin. Oracle to..Robin...Please pick up, Tim..."

The screen opened to show Tim Drake, mask off, staring blindly back at her. His eyes were red and his face stricken. "Babs?" he said in a faltering voice.

"It's okay, Boy Wonder," Barbara said, the tears starting in earnest. "I'll be there soon, okay? Just hang on."

Tim nodded and looked away. "Batman hasn't said anything..." He looked up at the screen with a twisted half-smile. "Would you believe Jason's flying this thing? He said he's the only one calm enough to handle the bat-wing..."

"Jason!" Barbara said. "What's Jason doing there? Did he have anything to do with this?" Her fingers clenched again.

"No. Nothing like that...He...Batman wants him here. Jason just showed up and looked as shocked as we were...and...so we're flying home. Cass is here too," Tim finished.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Barbara said. "I'll tell Dad. We'll be there soon."


	5. Aftermath

CHAPTER 6

"Ahh, Babs..." Dick said softly. "I might have known she'd go to help Tim..."

"You don't have to watch this," Tathenniel repeated. "Your pain isn't necessary."

"No, only my death," Dick said, gnawing at his lip. "What is it you're looking for, anyway? I mean, the grief of one family can't mean so much in the greater scheme of things."

"You would be surprised," the angel said. "There is a crisis approaching the Earth, a greater one than what you just fought. The multiverse must be balanced now or destruction beyond your comprehension will occur." Tathenniel stopped. "I've said too much. Let us continue."

* * *

Superman flew ahead of the bat-wing, landing at the front door of Wayne Manor. He couldn't stand the thought of Bruce having to break the news to the old butler, adding more pain to Bruce's unbearable grief. He rang the doorbell and waited for Alfred to answer. It was opened soon enough.

"Why, Master Clark," Alfred said in surprise. "To what do we owe the honor, sir?"

"I came to speak to you, Alfred," Superman said, unsmiling. "Can I come in?"

"Why, of course, sir. But Master Bruce isn't home at present..." Alfred swung the big door wide. The foyer hadn't changed in a hundred years, all marble and dark woods. Superman followed the butler into the parlor and took a seat.

"May I bring you refreshments after your...er...journey?" Alfred asked.

"No," Superman suddenly wanted to stop dancing around the point and break his news. "Alfred, would you please sit down?"

Alfred eyed the chair that Superman had gestured towards and gingerly perched on the corner, suddenly pale. "Sir...nothing's wrong with Master Bruce, is it?"

He has been expecting this news for years, Superman realized. And probably delivered by me. He sighed. "Not Batman, Alfred. Dick."

Alfred's eyes widened a bit. "Is he injured? Shall I pack a bag?" Alfred started to rise but Superman put a gentle hand on his arm.

"No, Alfred, that won't be necessary. Batman is...bringing him home. I'm sorry but Dick was..."Suddenly it was all that Superman could do to get the words out, the Man of Steel struck dumb. He dipped his head, unable to meet the old man's wise eyes. "He was killed this afternoon."

Alfred sagged back against the chair, head dropping to his chest. "How?" he asked in muffled tones.

Superman cleared his throat. "He ducked in front of an energy bolt meant for Batman, saving his life. There was nothing anyone could do...It was instantaneous, Alfred. He probably didn't feel a thing."

"A painless death is always to be preferred," the old man murmured, suddenly looking ancient. "And Master Bruce? He observed the entire...incident?"

"I'm afraid so," Superman said uncomfortably. "He...uh...went after Luthor and...and killed him."

Alfred sat up straight. "Master Bruce _killed _someone? Deliberately?"

"So I understand from Wonder Woman, who was there and witnessed it," Superman said. "Batman is on his way in the bat-wing. I thought that you should know before he arrives. Alfred, I'm truly sorry. I know that Dick was like a grandson to you."

"Indeed he was," Alfred said, voice breaking. "Indeed he was." He stood. "And I have work to do before Master Bruce arrives home. Thank you, Sir, for bringing the news. I must excuse myself now. I apologize for not showing you out myself..."

"I understand," Superman said. "I'll show myself out." He made his way toward the door and stopped. "But would you please tell Bruce that if he needs anything, anything at all, I'm glad to help."

"I understand, sir," Alfred said, following him to the door after all. "Good bye," the butler said and shut the door firmly after the Man of Steel. Only when he had heard the whooshing sound of Superman flying away did the old butler allow himself to weep.

* * *

The bat-wing was smoothly landed and travelled into the underground hangar; Jason hadn't lost his touch. Batman rose silently from his position in the back, next to Nightwing's body. Throughout the flight he had kept a hand on Nightwing's arm or shoulder, his eyes never leaving his son's face. When the jet stilled, the occupants of the plane stared at Batman, waiting for a sign or instruction. Batman bent over and lifted his son into his arms and made his way out the exit door.

As before, the little party followed him into the medical area of the batcave, where Batman laid his burden down on the examination table. Batman turned to his disparate family and said, "Thank you. For helping to bring him home." He peeled back his cowl, showing a face tired and sagging with weariness. He eyed the young people standing there silently and added. "I'd like a moment alone."

Robin responded first. Eyes cast down, he ran up the stairs from the batcave. Cass followed quietly without comment. Jason stopped. "If there's anything I can do, let me know, will ya? I...uh...haven't been much good to you lately but I'd like to make it up to you."

"Thanks, Jason," Batman said. "I appreciate that."

Jason nodded and followed the others up the stairs, passing Alfred on the way down. Alfred stopped and looked at him. "Master Jason?"

"Yeah, it's me," Jason said with a half-smile. "Y'know, bad penny and all that..."

"I assure you, I've never thought you a bad penny, merely misguided," Alfred said.

"So...uh...is my old room still available? I'd like to stay and help if he needs me," Jason looked back over his shoulder at Bruce, seated now next to the table holding Dick, holding his boy's hand. "Was he like that when I...?"

Alfred looked at his master and his face tightened. "Oh yes. He was. And yes, your room is still available. You have always had a place in this house if you had chosen to return to us."

Jason's face showed naked longing for a moment, then the half smile was back. "Thanks, Alfie. I'll see ya upstairs."

Alfred continued down the stairs, meeting Bruce's eyes with calm sadness. "I've been told the circumstances of the lad's death," he moved forward, sinking suddenly into a chair, trembling hand reaching out to stroke Dick's hair. "I had hoped that Master Dick could...survive...this life."

"Brother Eye was right," Batman said. "It was too much to expect from him. He was facing beings with such incredible power with nothing but his own strength. I sent him out there unarmed." He ran a hand over his son's blistered chest. "Even his body armor wasn't enough." He turned to Alfred. "This was my fault. I disposed of Alexander Luthor with a single bullet, problem solved. If only I'd thought to do that _before_..."

"Sir...you _shot and killed_ someone?" Alfred asked.

Bruce looked up, eyes bleak. "Yes, Alfred, I did. And I can't bring myself to regret it. Not at all." He glanced down at his son again and slowly drew a sheet over the body. "Maybe I've been wrong all these years. If I'd been armed...maybe I could have prevented this." His hand smoothed the fabric.

"And now, sir?" Alfred forced himself back to his feet. There was work to be done, the last few tasks to be done for this boy he'd loved like a grandson. "The lad will need a death certificate..."

Bruce nodded. "More easily accomplished in a small African country..." He pushed himself to his feet as well. "Call Leslie and ask her to stop by. We'll..figure something out."

"I will telephone her, sir," Alfred's gaze turned away from the shrouded body, but he found himself quite unable to force himself back up the staircase.

"Before I adopted him, I tried to make him promise never to get himself killed," Bruce said. "A stupid attempt to cheat fate. Dick assured me that if he'd survived this long, the danger was...past..." He slumped back into his chair, voice breaking. "What am I going to do without him, Alfred?" He said thickly. "How...? He was my legacy, my future...the best thing I ever did was raise that boy into the man he became..." He turned empty eyes to the man who had brought him up. "How do I go on?"

Alfred pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and applied it to his eyes. "You go on, a day at a time. Master Dick would demand it of you. There are other young people who look to you for guidance, sir. You have a duty to them. Come, sir. Come upstairs and rest." He reached a hand out and Bruce took it, allowing himself to be helped to his feet. The two walked like old men to the staircase. At the base, Alfred reached for the light switch.

"No," Bruce said. "Don't leave him in the dark. Leave him in the light."

Alfred nodded and the two trudged up the staircase to the house above.

* * *

The pictures wavered and the next thing they saw was Barbara Gordon and her father in the car, on their way to Wayne Manor. "Dad, thanks for taking me," a red-eyed Barbara said.

"No problem," Gordon replied. "But what's going on? What's wrong, honey?"

"Dad...there's been...an accident...Dick...Dick's been killed," she said, curling her fingers around the diamond on her left hand.

"Dick Grayson? Why? What happened?" Gordon asked, alarmed.

"Dad," she stopped and took a deep breath. "You know that I've been working for a while as a kind of information source for the Justice League...?"

"Yes, you told me that you were Oracle. Weird job for a librarian, but I get it..." His eyes sharpened. "Does this have to do with Batman?"

"You know?" Her head came up and she met his gaze.

"Fine cop I'd be if I hadn't figured it out by now," Gordon snorted. "You've been dating Robin...excuse me, Nightwing...for a long time. What happened?" His voice softened.

"He was killed in Metropolis. A b..bolt of energy. While saving Batman," she looked out the window. "He's always been a heroic idiot; too ready to sacrifice himself for others...They brought him back...to Wayne Manor," she finished. "Dad...what'll I do?"

He reached out a hand and clasped her left. "You live, honey. You remember the joy and the love and be grateful for the time you had." He turned his attention back to the roadway. "And so you two met when you were Batgirl?"

"You figured that out, too?" She gave him a watery smile.

"Took me a while, but yes. I couldn't ignore all your mysterious disappearances or your new obsession with fitness. Not to mention the familiar voice of the newest female vigilante in town. I could accept it because I knew that Batman would look out for you," Gordon said. "And I'm proud of you, of all the good work you did. Of all that you have done." He smiled gently at her.

"Thanks, Dad," she said, crumpling her kleenex and tucking into her pocket. "Then you've figured out who everyone is?"

"Timothy Drake is the second Robin, Bruce Wayne is Batman," Gordon quirked his lips. "I still don't know who Superman is, thank goodness. This is already more than I ever banked on."

"I won't tell you, then," Barbara replied. "Alfred is just Alfred, although he's the most heroic of the bunch."

"He'd have to be, wouldn't he? To keep all this together?" Gordon replied, pulling the car to a stop on the gravel drive. "We're here."

* * *

Dick sat in front of the column, knees pulled to chest, looking much like the distraught eight year old Bruce had taken in. He scrubbed at his face and looked over his shoulder at the angel standing by. "Okay, so I'll be missed. I can't see what good all this does." He paused. "Isn't there some way I can...I don't know...comfort them?"

"I'm afraid not," Tathenniel said. "

"Could I maybe...send Deadman back as a kind of messenger? Let them know I'm okay?"

"By no means," the angel said. "The purpose for this review is to determine the effect of your death. Nothing must corrupt the timeline or the exercise is useless."

"Oh," Dick replied, looking back at the column.

"Let us continue, then." And the figures began to move again.

* * *

Dr. Leslie Thompkins, frowning hugely, got out of her small car and was let into the mansion by a quiet-faced Alfred.

"So it's finally happened," she said in a low voice as he led her down the staircase. "He's finally gotten that boy killed."

They approached the shrouded figure in the middle of the cave. "Master Dick saved Master Bruce's life. I would not disparage his heroism," Alfred said.

"Alfred, I'm sorry," Leslie said. "You know how I feel about Dick. I've known him since he was just a little boy..." She reached for the sheet and twitched it back, then covered her mouth with a hand. "This is...so hard..."

"You understand that we need your help now," Alfred said. "We cannot bury him, legally, without a death certificate."

"Oh yes, I know," Leslie replied sharply. "And if you tell the truth all of Bruce's secrets become known. Dear God. And what was it this time? It looks like he was electrocuted...?"

"Close enough," Alfred said. "A blast of energy wielded by one of the enemies who wished to destroy this planet. This young man...helped to prevent that and saved us all... He deserves a hero's burial..."

"All right," Leslie said. "I'll simply put down electrocution for cause of death. You and Bruce will have to come up with a story to explain it."

"Perhaps a high power line came down and struck him while he was near a battle zone, Metropolis I think. Yes, that will work," Alfred said. "Master Bruce is somewhat...distracted...at this time. I would spare him having to think about this incident any more than already is."

"Here it is," she finished signing the document and handed it to the butler. "You'll bury him here, I assume?"

"Yes. Next to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne," Alfred said.

"What about his uniform? You can't release him to a mortuary like that," Leslie covered the body again.

"I shall attend to that," Alfred said.

Leslie's face softened. "Call me if you need me."

"Be assured, I shall," the old man said.


	6. Homecoming

Author's note: Here is where I start begging for reviews. I know that lots of you are reading and following the story, but aside from loyal reviewers like Calypse and Freakin'Yoda, I haven't heard much from any of you. Reviews make for a happy writer and a happy writer writes MORE and more QUICKLY. How about it?

CHAPTER SIX

When the Gordons arrived, Tim had opened the door for them rather than Alfred to Barbara's surprise. Seeing a sad-eyed Tim standing next to the huge door had melted Babs's heart. She took one look at him and held out her arms. Tim gratefully dove into them and sobbed quietly for several minutes.

"Better now?" Babs asked him when he slowed.

Tim nodded silently then untangled himself, sitting back on his haunches. "I'm sorry, Babs. But when I saw you, I just...you know...lost it..."

"No explanations necessary, Boy Wonder," she replied. "No need to ask how you're doing. Maybe we should go inside?" She looked up at her father, standing patiently to one side.

"Uh, yeah," Tim said and opened the door again. "C'mon in."

He led them into the large study where the rest of the family had already gathered. Cass was sitting quietly in a corner while Jason nursed a beer on the couch. Barbara's eyebrows lifted when she saw Jason and even more so when she noticed the absence of Bruce and Alfred. "Where is Bruce?" she asked, accepting a mineral water from Tim.

"In his office," Tim said, sipping at his own drink. "He's been there since he came up from the cave."

"Is that where..where Dick is?" Babs asked, suddenly shy.

"Yeah," Tim acknowledged. "Do you want to see him?"

Did she want to see the only man she'd ever really loved cold and dead? Or should she hold on to the memories of a very alive Dick Grayson, one of the most active and generous people she'd ever known? She had to see, to know whether he'd died in pain or anguish. No, she didn't want to see him, but she needed to.

"Yes, I'd like to go downstairs, Tim," she said finally. "Dad?"

"I'll stay here," Gordon replied. "The less I know, the less I can tell anyone later."

Barbara nodded and followed Tim to the elevator. "Aren't you coming?" she asked him when he stepped back to let her in.

"No," Tim said. "I saw enough today. I..I saw it happen and watched him..."

"Oh, Tim, I'm sorry," she said, feeling in her bones just how inadequate her words were.

"'S'okay," Tim muttered. "I'll be in my room if you want me, Babs."

"Okay," she said and hit the 'down' button. The door opened to the familiar cave, almost empty but for a single voice.

"Now, young sir, I cannot condone the carelessness with which you threw yourself into the fray. I have long warned you about the danger of your recklessness, as did the Master himself. But would you ever listen? No. In your own way, you were as reckless as Jason..."

She heard the sound of scissors and, rolling forward, saw that it was Alfred, removing Dick's uniform. "I have taken the liberty of burning some of your clothing to match your wounds, dear boy. Alas, your favorite leather jacket is a casualty to the deception but I like to think that you would not mind the final sacrifice of such a favored item of clothing." The old man stopped, put the scissors down and mopped at his eyes with a handkerchief. He cleared his throat and picked the scissors up again. "I am sorry, my dearest boy. Your loss has quite ruined my equilibrium...Still, I will not send you on your way without proper dress..."

"Alfred?" Babs said softly.

The old man jerked, then relaxed when he saw her. "Oh, Miss Gordon, it is you. You startled me."

She rolled forward until she was next to the table that held her beloved's body. Half the costume had already been removed, from the waist up, and his mask was gone. "I wanted to see him," she whispered. "I had to," reaching out her left hand to touch Dick's shoulder.

"Quite understandable, my dear girl," Alfred said, voice unsteady. "As you can see, he died quickly."

"And violently," Babs added.

"As must be expected in this life we lead," Alfred said. "Shall I leave you with him?"

Stroking Dick's shoulder, feeling the cold skin beneath her fingertips where once there was warm vitality, she shook her head. "No, Alfred. Let me help."

Together, they removed the rest of the uniform and redressed him in blue jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket, all suitably scorched and burned. Lastly, Alfred moved Dick into a body bag, hesitating as he began to close it.

"Wait, Alfred," Babs said and leaned over to give Dick a last kiss. The kiss brought a sense of finality, the realization that he was gone and wasn't coming back hit her gut harder than the Joker's bullet. She held a hand to her icy lips as the butler zipped the bag closed at last.

"Miss Barbara," Alfred said hesitantly. "I would appreciate your assistance in selecting a suit for Master Dick to wear, to be sent to the mortuary with him."

Babs nodded, eyes brimming. "I'll see to it," she said. "How are you doing, Alfred?"

"I am taking it a minute at a time," Alfred admitted. "The Master will need my support in future, as will young Timothy." He looked toward the staircase. "And perhaps Master Jason as well."

"And who supports you?" Babs asked. She shook her head at Alfred's immediate protest. "Oh yes, I know, an English gentleman requires no support. Alfred, if you need me, call me. I'm always available online and you know how to contact me."

"Thank you, Miss," Alfred said with a half-smile. "I have always known that I could depend on you. I only regret that I was never able to see you and Master Dick married and happy together."

Watching the ring sparkle and flash, Barbara sighed. "I know, Alfred."

* * *

Upstairs, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, Black Canary and two members of the Titans had arrived, Roy Harper and Donna Troy, all dressed in their civvies. With Superman's arrival, Bruce Wayne had finally come out of his suite, looking tired and worn. Seeing him, Diana immediately gave Bruce a warm hug. "Bruce, I can't tell you how sorry I am about Dick," she said. "It seems only yesterday that you were introducing him to the members of the League..."

"His pranks were infamous," Superman said with a smile. "I remember finding him under the JLA conference table more than once, listening to the proceedings."

"Well, you never found fake vomit in your locker," Green Arrow said, arms folded.

"No," Superman replied. "Dog poo. The fake stuff, at least. The real stuff wouldn't have gotten past the sensors."

"He did that?" Batman demanded, aghast. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"He was just a kid and he didn't have many playmates. We all decided to let him have his fun," Green Arrow replied. "He was a great kid. He used to retrieve my arrows for me when I shot at targets." He glanced at Arsenal. "Before I had Speedy, anyway."

Arsenal grinned. "So, what else did he get away with that you're not telling us about?"

"That remains a state secret," Wonder Woman said. "Even at your age, we don't want to give you any ideas."

A brief silence fell, each person thinking their own thoughts until Arsenal cleared his throat. "Bruce...I did want to ask about Dick's funeral. Now, I know that you'll probably want something quiet here at the manor. But Dick was more than just Robin or Nightwing, he was also a Titan and an Outsider and even a member of the Suicide Squad. Members of each of these groups have asked me to discuss the possibility of a memorial..."

"No." Bruce's eyebrows drew together. "He was my son first. He'll be buried here and mourned here. No long processions of caped heroes. No tv cameras. No reporters."

"But Bruce," Clark Kent adjusted his glasses nervously. "Nightwing was an integral part of the JLA. During many tense situations he was the glue that held the entire edifice together. He was respected and yes, loved, throughout the League. We have to do something for him." Clark cleared his throat. "We need to mourn his passing, too."

"I won't have any circuses here," Bruce replied, then realized what he'd just said. "Dick lived in the light of public opinion all his life, as my son, as Robin, then as Nightwing. He adapted to it but he never liked it. He deserves his peace now. It's the last thing I can do for him," Bruce's voice trailed off.

"You're still the same Bat you ever were," Arsenal said bitterly. "You fired him as Robin when he started spending more time with the Titans than he did with you. You couldn't take the fact that he was making his own life, independent of your control. I never understood why Dick put up with all the little mind games you used to play with him. For most of Dick's adult life, you withheld the one thing he wanted most, your approval. The fact that he was a fine leader and a good man didn't seem to rate with you unless you could control him." Arsenal's hands formed into fists. "I used to help him with his monthly sweep for bugs and listening devices. Oh, we found all your little surveillance toys and Dick wouldn't let me destroy them. He just laughed and left them there, still functioning. He used to say it was worth it if it stopped your worrying about him." He turned to an embarrassed looking Donna Troy. "I can't stand this. I'm going." He looked over his shoulder at a stiff Bruce Wayne. "We're having a memorial for him, whether or not you choose to participate. Dick was always more than just your sidekick and the people who loved him will make sure that the world remembers Nightwing."

With that, Arsenal stormed out of the room. In the distance a loud door slam could be heard. "I'm sorry about that," Green Arrow said. "Dick was one of his best friends."

"As long as it's understood that there will be no official JLA memorial, you'll have no trouble from me," Bruce said, downing his drink. "There won't be, will there?" He eyed Superman, Wonder Woman and Green Arrow.

"I can't speak for what the Titans might do unofficially," Superman said. "But since it is your wish, the League won't have an official memorial for Nightwing. We have a lot of funerals after this crisis in any case," he said solemnly.

Diana nodded. "The last thing we want to do is cause you more pain, Bruce. You know that."

Bruce exhaled and seemed to sag. "Thank you for that." He looked to one side and saw Alfred letting himself into the room via the clock. "Excuse me." He went over to the butler. "How are you holding up, old friend?"

"As well as might be expected," Alfred sighed. "Master Dick is ready to go to the mortuary."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said. "I had to do it for Jason...I..I couldn't face doing it for Dick..."

Alfred's tired gray eyes met exhausted blue ones. "I quite understand, sir. As a matter of fact, Miss Barbara was of great help to me."

"Barbara?" Bruce said. "She's here? Where is she?"

"Saying goodbye, I imagine," Alfred said, pulling out his now-rumpled handkerchief and dabbing at his eye. "This...is very difficult..."

"We'll get through it somehow," Bruce said.

Evening came and most of the guests departed. Clark Kent lagged behind and finally caught Bruce alone. "Bruce, I know what happened to Alex Luthor; Diana told me."

Bruce gave him a level glare. "And you don't like it."

"Tell me why I should! Bruce, you murdered that man!" Superman tried, without success, to find a glimpse of remorse.

"He murdered Dick," Bruce said coldly. "Tell me why I should regret an act of simple justice? In fact, if he hadn't killed my son, he'd have gotten me instead. Would that content you?"

"Bruce, this has never been your way," Superman said. "You've always held the line against killing. It's what's made you different, given you honor..."

"And I'm dishonorable now?" Bruce said. "Look at what Alexander Luthor has taken away from me. When I took in an orphan, all those years ago, I didn't save him. He saved me. Before I took in Dick Grayson, I was headed into the dark. Vengeance was my reason for living, much less for being the Batman. That changed after Dick came to us. I could laugh again, enjoy life. I had someone to plan for, someone to be a hero for. He saved me, every day of his life until it was cut off by that preening weasel and you want me to just let that go and allow Alexander Luthor to walk away? I couldn't do that. I still can't. If Alexander Luthor were standing here facing me, I'd kill him again, except this time I'd do it more slowly, if only to make him feel the pain and loss I'm feeling right now." Bruce looked down and noticed that his right fist was clenched. Painfully, he uncurled his fingers and allowed his hand to relax. "My biggest sorrow right now is that I never told Dick what he meant to me. I could never find the right words..."

"After Jason died, you didn't kill the Joker," Superman said stiffly.

"And we know why I didn't," Bruce pointed a finger at Superman's chest. "You stopped me. And that's the only reason that Joker walked out alive that day. The only one."

"Bruce, you're grieving and overwrought," Superman said, his face saddened. "I'll say my good nights and let you rest. I'll talk to you in a few days. Please...let me know when the funeral is. I'd like to attend."

"If I'd been armed, he'd still be alive!" Bruce shouted after a departing Superman, then sank onto a couch and covered his face with his hands. "He'd still be alive..."

He felt the couch dip as a weight settled next to him. "Is that what really happened?" Jason asked.

Bruce looked at his second son, the black sheep. "What?"

"Is that what really happened? You tried to kill the Joker but Superman stopped you?"

Bruce leaned back into the couch. "Yes. Joker made an appearance as Iran's Ambassador to the United Nations, giving him diplomatic immunity. God knows how he wangled the appointment, but I was there to extract what justice I could for your death. Superman was sent by Washington specifically to stop me and prevent an international incident. You've complained that I never avenged your death, Jason, but on that day I tried. Oh, how I tried...Because he took you away from me." He turned to his son. "I'm sorry, Jason. I failed you, just like I failed Dick."

The two sat on the couch in silence until Bruce slowly climbed to his feet and went over to the grandfather clock.

"Going to the cave?" Jason asked.

"Going on patrol," Bruce replied. "Crime doesn't stop just because we've had a tragedy."

"Can I come, too?" Jason asked, almost shy.

Bruce paused, eyeing the younger man, then nodded. "Fine. You can suit up downstairs."


	7. The Funeral

CHAPTER 7

[Author's note: The painting I reference, Rembrandt's Return of the Prodigal Son exists and it's...gut-wrenching. Google it and take a look.]

"Sir," Alfred interrupted. "I will need assistance at the freight elevator from the batcave. The mortuary will be arriving in thirty minutes to pick up Master Dick." He held out his hands. "I am not as strong as I once was."

Bruce halted in mid-step and visibly swallowed hard. "You're right, Alfred. Would you call Tim from his room? I think...that this is a task for family."

Four shell-shocked looking men gathered at the freight elevator to the batcave. Tim was visibly trembling, his face white and tear-streaked. Alfred looked a hundred years old. Bruce's face was worn and gray. Jason was the only one who didn't look haggard.

Bruce led the way into the elevator, then out again when it arrived in the cave. A single pool of light illuminated the medical table on which a black body-bag lay, zipped closed to conceal its contents. Next to it a dark suit with blue tie hung from a chair, dress shoes and socks neatly placed below.

"I asked Miss Gordon to select a suit for Master Dick," Alfred commented quietly. "I see that she has performed her task admirably."

"She didn't leave with Jim?" Bruce asked.

"No, I telephoned for a cab later. She wanted to spend some...extra...time with Master Dick."

The four had made their way to the table. Alfred rolled a gurney next to it and lined it up with the body bag. Bruce, Tim, Jason and Alfred each slid their hands under the bag. "All right, lift on three..." Bruce found his voice suddenly hoarse.

"...one...two...lift..." And the bag slid smoothly onto the gurney. Tim reached over to fasten the bag down with a safety belt.

"Don't...want him to fall off..." Tim said with a wobbly grin. "He'd be mad if we sent him off with a busted nose."

He was rewarded with a tentative half-smile from Bruce as they began to push the gurney back into the freight elevator. "So, where do we take him?" Jason asked hesitantly.

"To the chapel, of course," Alfred said firmly. "We may not make use of it, but the room was consecrated in the past. It is where Mr. and Mrs. Wayne lay in state."

"Of course, Alfred," Bruce said. "The chapel."

They silently pushed the gurney into the room, smelling of stale incense and candlewax. Alfred turned on the chandelier, illuminating the Rembrandt over the altar. "Your parents were quite proud when they were able to purchase this painting during their trip to Italy."

Bruce's eyes were glued on the huge biblical scene. "The Return of the Prodigal Son. It's...appropriate..." They pushed the gurney to its place in front of the altar. Reluctantly he released the gurney, still staring at the painting. Alfred silently nudged Tim and Jason out of the room.

* * *

"It's not fair!" Dick shouted at the angel. "He hasn't done anything to deserve pain like that. You made this happen, now undo it!" He raised a fist, then remembered who he was threatening and slowly lowered his hand.

The angel smiled, a bit sadly. "He has loved. To love is pain and to lose a loved-one even more so. Do you think that he regrets having known you, even if this is the price?"

"No," Dick answered, glancing back at Bruce, crying alone in the chapel. "And I'm not sorry that he took me in and adopted me. But...it hurts...watching this. Can't I do anything? What about miracles? How about a miracle? Please...He deserves it. He's done a lot of good in his life."

"I'm sorry, but no. He grieves because he loves you and has lost you. Take away the grief and you lessen the love. He wouldn't want that."

Dick watched Bruce, unable to turn his eyes away. "You said that this was Limbo, Tathenniel. It isn't." He turned his face to the angel. "I'm in Hell. I'm powerless to help the ones I love."

"That is the lot of the dead," Tathenniel replied. "To watch and hope but not to effect any change."

* * *

Dick watched Bruce finally get up from the chair he'd collapsed into and walk over to the gurney. Bruce gave it a soft pat then opened the door with one last look at the painting and left.

The column shifted again and he saw the darkness of a Gotham street with three figures crouched on a roof overlooking it. "The Dark Brotherhood gang has moved into Lucas territory since Bludhaven was destroyed," Batman said to his companions. "That's putting pressure on all the other gangs in the area. Gordon warned me that there's supposed to be a hit tonight, the Lucases are trying to push the DB's out, once and for all."

"Okay, where do you want us?" Robin said, eyeing Jason, clad in his Red Hood costume. "Are you sure you want him toting firearms?"

"What? Are you afraid I loaded it with bird-shot?" sneered Jason, putting hand to holster. "I could bag a little bird while I'm out here and stop all his noisy twittering..."

"You're both too loud," Batman said, scanning the area. "Robin, I gave him the okay to go armed. Red Hood, this is a group effort. Show your teammate some respect."

Jason and Robin exchanged less than friendly glances then shrugged. "Whatever you say, Batman," Robin replied. "Okay," Jason said, clearly biting his tongue.

"Here they come," Batman pointed. "Red Hood, you take the building across the way. Robin, you take the back."

Both figures moved out with the economy of motion and silence characteristic of someone bat-trained. Batman stayed in place, watching. Jason's gun had bothered him much less than he'd expected. He had been rethinking his stance on firearms since Dick had been murdered. He himself had killed and the world hadn't ended; instead, he was satisfied that he had exacted true justice on someone who deserved it. If only...Roughly, he drew his thoughts back to the job at hand. The DB headquarters was quiet so far but he spotted movement down at the corner of Kane and Finger Streets. Counting bodies, he knew that this was it. Twenty goons with guns, heading his way.

He swung down into the street, facing the oncoming thugs then threw down covering vomit-gas bombs. He fastened his respirator and watched the goons run, all but tripping over each other to get away from the gas. Soon the gang members were clutching their stomachs and giving up their dinners. Jason signaled that the G.P.D. was arriving.

Batman stepped away from the thugs and opened the door to the building. "Lucas!" He shouted into the building. The light went on and he saw a room full of gang members armed to the teeth. A tall, muscular man in a white beater pushed his way to the front.

"Whatcha want, Bats? We ain't done nuthin'."

"And you aren't going to do anything either," Batman pointed at the DB's being loaded into paddy wagons. "Drop the guns right now and you can leave the building and go home. Fight me and you go to jail with the DB's."

"What didja hit them with?" Lucas sniffed at the air and covered his nose and mouth.

"Vomit gas. I'll give you to a count of five to drop the guns and come out or we'll do the same to you. One...two..." Batman began to count.

Lucas stared at him white-eyed, clearly feeling more nauseated by the minute. Finally, "Okay...okay..." He dropped his gun, put his hands up and came out the door. Slowly the rest of the thugs followed him into the street.

"Look what I found climbing out the window!" Jason came around the side alley, frog-marching two gang members loaded with weapons. "Ya think they're afraid of having to buy more guns?"

"Definitely," Robin came from around the back with three more, toting a crate of rifles. "They seem to have quite the collection of firearms."

"We'll let the Gotham Police have these, shall we?" Batman said, gesturing to the officer in charge of the operation. With a grin, the cop took the five miscreants to their own paddy wagon and confiscated the weapons. Lucas and his crew had already faded into the darkness.

* * *

Dick, watching the column, noted that Batman seemed satisfied with the way his new team had performed. His feeling was confirmed when Batman said, "That was sloppy. You could have been in position much faster, Red Hood. And Robin, your knots weren't up to your usual standard. You need to work on them." Yep, Batman was pleased.

Maybe it wasn't so bad, Dick considered. Jason...seemed different. He was trying hard to be part of the team. Sure, Tim didn't like him much and Dick couldn't blame him, given Jason's history. But that kind of thing could be worked out if Jason was finally trying. Maybe Batman would be okay without Nightwing...

The images swirled again and Dick saw a shiny black coffin in a room filled with candles. He didn't recognize the room, so he supposed it must be a mortuary. Bruce, in a black suit and tie, approached the coffin slowly, laying both hands flat on its surface.

"Sir, there is no need for you to do this. I can check as easily as you can," Alfred, also in black, said. Both men looked well groomed but drained.

"We're burying him today, Alfred. I just want to make sure that nobody, nothing, will disturb him. That it's still _him_ in the coffin and not a wax dummy or mannequin. I don't want what happened to Jason happening to Dick..."

"I quite understand, sir," Alfred said as Bruce raised the coffin lid. Dick saw his own face, peaceful with a hint of a smile.

"Somehow they managed to get that cowlick to stay down," Bruce said softly. "He never could tame that thing." He reached in and stroked the cheek of the young man inside the coffin. "Yes. It's him."

Alfred released a long breath of relief. "One worry disposed of, sir. May the lad rest in peace."

Giving Dick a final look, Bruce closed the lid. "All right, Alfred. We can start now."

"Can't say I'm sorry," a gravelly voice came from the entrance. Slade Wilson. "I know I'm not invited but I wanted to make sure _he_ really _is_ dead." Slade's brows came down over burning eyes. "And it's not some charade you're pulling on me."

"What do you want, Wilson?" Bruce demanded. "He's beyond your revenge now."

"Really?" Wilson stalked over to the coffin and reached for the lid.

Bruce grabbed a tall wrought iron candelabrum standing next to the coffin and held it like a staff, putting himself between Slade and the coffin. "Get the hell out of here," Bruce gritted out. "Or I promise, I'll kill you."

"Do you need some help?" Conner, Tim and Roy stood in the doorway, each dressed in a black suit.

"Oh, I think everything is under control," Bruce said with teeth bared. "You were just leaving, weren't you Wilson?"

Wilson, realizing that he was outnumbered, turned to leave. "Now you know what it's like to lose a son," he said, meeting Bruce's eyes. He shoved his way out. Bruce put the candelabrum back, fighting the urge to run after Deathstroke and rip his head off. This wasn't the time. "Thank you for helping to keep the peace."

Roy shrugged. "Under the circumstances, I don't think Dick would mind going out on a fist-fight."

"Well, I, for one am glad that he is not. Where are the rest of your compatriots?" Alfred asked.

Conner pointed over his shoulder. "Gar had trouble with his tie. Jason and Wally are helping him."

"Very well," Alfred said, grabbing Bruce's arm. "We should take our places, sir."

Bruce looked back at the coffin and visibly shook himself. He silently followed the butler into the church. As they sat in the pews, He looked up into the soaring stained glass of Gotham Cathedral. He wondered again how he'd let Superman talk him out of the quiet family gathering he'd wanted. The fact was that the entire JLA had gone into mourning for this single death and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Everyone, it seemed, had worked with Dick at one time or another. He had no enemies, not among the heroes, in any case. Dick's friends had been the most persistent. Wally had finally won Bruce over by offering him the only thing that mattered: control over the proceedings. Left to themselves, the Titans' memorial to Nightwing had threatened to devolve into a beer bash of epic proportions. Alfred and Bruce had both agreed that dignity should be preserved.

* * *

Sitting on the grass, watching it all, Dick was impressed. Gotham Cathedral was crowded. Every friend Dick had ever had seemed to be there, with some exceptions. He didn't see Kory in the crowd of Titans and former Titans, all dressed in civilian clothing. He was suddenly afraid for her.

He turned to Tathenniel. "Where is Kory? Is she okay?"

"Coriander is trapped on another planet." Tathenniel replied. "She is uninjured."

"There must be a couple hundred people in there. So much for the quiet, private funeral Bruce wanted." He sat down to watch, making himself comfortable. "Wow, the whole JLA is there. There's Clark...and Diana...Ollie...and Roy...Gordon and Babs." His voice saddened. She sat in her wheelchair silently wringing her hands. Bruce came over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, then back down again. "Oh yeah, it's a funeral," Dick recalled. "Mine." He strained to listen to what Bruce was saying to Alfred and suddenly he could hear.

"I don't think I've ever seen so many of them in civilian dress," Bruce said. "I just wish I knew what Dick would have wanted. His will didn't say much."

"Except for his expressed wish for a wake that will "blow the walls out", I gather that he had few preferences," Alfred said. Organ music began and the assembled congregation stood up.

Wow, Bruce really was throwing out all the stops, Dick mused. A priest ...was that the Cardinal?...processed in, followed by altar boys with candles. Bruce was raised protestant but he knew that Dick was a lapsed Catholic and how he'd managed to arrange this...Well, a determined Bruce Wayne could do miracles.

Then he saw the coffin, the same shiny black one Bruce had checked earlier and he swallowed hard when he saw who was carrying it. Some of them he'd never seen in suits before, much less looking this solemn. Bearing the casket in were Roy Harper, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Wally West, Garfield Logan and Conner Kent. Roy was tight lipped and Wally's eyes were red.

"Oh man..." He hadn't seen Wally in a suit since his wedding. He'd never seen Roy wearing one. And Gar...was he crying? Gar the jokester? The funnyman of the Titans? Conner 's face was grim, with a look of determination Dick had seen on Clark's face before. That meeting with Slade had upset all of them. Dick sighed. Hopefully Slade wasn't planning on digging his body up later for some extra vengeance.

The coffin halted in the center of the church, facing the altar. All off the pallbearers took seats and the priest began talking. The images began to move again. "Hey! I'm missing the eulogies! Don't I get to hear how great I am...was?"

"Bolstering your self-esteem is not the purpose of this exercise," the angel said. "Now, let us see..."

The images flashed to the wake hosted by Ron and Wally. Tim stood in a corner sipping mineral water, looking utterly alone in a room full of friends. Wonder Girl, Cassie, stopped by and put a hand on his arm. "Hey, why are you all alone? Come on over and sit with us." She pointed to the couch where Gar and Conner sat. "We're telling Dick's favorite bad jokes."

Tim looked over and crooked a half-smile. "Thanks, Cassie, but I'm just not feeling it. Besides, my shift starts in ten minutes."

Wonder Girl nodded. "Okay, Tim. I understand. Call me tomorrow and let me know how you're doing, will you?"

"Sure," Tim replied and headed out the door. He stopped at the cave and changed into his uniform, then made his way up the secret entrance to the manor grounds. Passing the ornate wrought iron fence that separated the Wayne burial ground from the rest of the estate, he soon arrived at the fresh mound of dirt covered with flowers. Lanterns stood at the four corners of the mound, illuminating the fresh grave. A still figure in a long black cape stood guard beside it.

"Batman, I'll take over. Some of the Titans will be coming over later to help out. We'll have it covered for the next ten days. There's no way that Deathstroke will disturb Dick," Tim said and took up his post. He was there from midnight to dawn, then Wally would be next.

"I'll stay," Batman said.

"All right. I'll stay with you," Tim said evenly.

"All right, they're sad and crying over me," Dick said from his seat on the grass. "I don't see how any of this is changing any timelines. I may have done a few important things in my time, but I don't see how my death is making any difference in the long run. Can I go back now?"

"Not yet. The seeds of the future have been planted. We have to see what will grow as a result," Tathenniel replied, ever patient.


	8. Thin End of the Wedge

Author's note: I did say I wrote faster for reviews :) Thank you so much for all the reviews, I really do like to know who I'm writing for. It adds spice to the process and gives me ideas.

No hankies for this one, just some cussin'

CHAPTER 8

"Now, let us see what the true results are of your death," Tathenniel said, holding a hand up. Scenes of Batman with two companions patrolling Gotham City flashed across the column, finally stopping at the batcave.

"He's put in a shooting range?" Dick demanded in outrage. "Batman hates guns! I mean, he made me learn how to shoot and to know the capabilities of firearms, but that was in order to defend against them."

"You have never had any objection to firearms," Tathenniel pointed out.

"No, I learned to carry a gun in the Bludhaven P.D. But I always found a way to avoid using it...is that Jason, giving Bruce tips?" Dick edged closer to the column. Tathenniel obligingly zoomed the picture in.

"Damn! This isn't Bruce at all. I mean, he shot Alex Luthor, but that was the heat of emotion. This...this is cold-blooded planning..."

"You don't like this aspect of Bruce Wayne?" Tathenniel asked.

"Heck no. This isn't him at all. He hates guns! He's hated them since the day his parents were murdered." Dick watched Bruce take several shots at a man-shaped target, then try again after Jason adjusted his stance.

"Perhaps his thinking has changed," Tathenniel said thoughtfully.

* * *

The images swirled away and halted again. This time the three were patrolling Gotham. Dick noticed that Batman had a pistol in a holster strapped on over his uniform, ready for a cross draw. It looked comfortable and worn in.

Tracy's Jewelers was being robbed. He could see shattered windows and two men, dressed in black were rifling through the cases. Batman, Red Hood and Robin appeared on the rooftop of the building across the street. Batman gave a silent command and his companions flitted off. Batman himself approached from the front.

"You were right, Batman, the safe's in the back," Robin radioed. "There are two guys back here trying to open it. Both are armed."

"I'm at the back door," Jason reported. "I don't see why the kid gets to approach and I'm stuck guarding the exit. I used to do this kind of stuff as Robin."

"And you did it well," Batman replied. "Stay in position, Red Hood. Robin, take them down on my signal."

Dick found himself itching to be in there and part of the team. He'd always loved working with Batman, which was partly what had made giving up being Robin so painful. For the rest, it was the belief that Bruce had written him off, both as partner and as son. His eyes sharpened on the picture. Robin had moved himself into place for the takedown and was holding himself ready. But unseen by the boy, there was a third man in the back room, hidden behind some boxes. The man had spotted Robin and had silently removed a pistol from its holster and had taken a bead on the back of Robin's head. At that distance he couldn't miss.

Dick found himself on his feet, shouting at the column. "Robin! Behind you!" Oblivious, the boy continued to watch until the man cocked the gun. A shot rang out and the man hit the ground, a bright bullet hole appearing in his head.

Robin dodged away frantically, while the two men at the safe, looking in the direction of the gunshot, raised their hands. Batman came through the doorway, gun at the ready, pointing it at the crooks. As Jason skidded in through the back door, Batman said, "Are you all right, Robin?"

"Y..yes, I am, Batman. I'm fine," Tim said, face white. Looking at the gun in Batman's hands, he said. "Was that you?"

"Yes, it was me. I've been practicing...with Jason's help."

Jason's smirk covered his face.

Gordon and the Gotham P.D. soon arrived to take charge of the tied-up crooks. Batman was giving his statement to Gordon.

"I subdued the robbers in the main room and as I approached the back, I saw that a single armed man, unseen by Robin, was about to fire on him," Batman said crisply.

Gordon, holding a notebook, continued his questioning. "So, you shot the guy threatening Robin?"

"He had just cocked his gun and was about to take a shot at Robin's head. He was too close to miss. I fired in defense of another," Batman said, patting his own holstered pistol.

"That the gun?" Gordon's voice was bland, but Dick could read surprise and dismay in his face.

"Yes," Batman said, handing it over.

Gordon put it in his pocket. "Is this registered to y...No, I suppose not. After we do some ballistics tests, we'll return it to you. I doubt the DA will be charging you with anything. We have Robin's statement and the...uh...Red Hood's as well." Gordon closed the notebook. "Is this going to be your standard procedure from here on in? You're going armed?"

"You heard about the death of Nightwing?" Batman's voice was low and his hands curled into fists so tight that the leather whitened at the knuckles. "It could have been prevented if I'd carried a gun that day. I could have...should have... prevented it."

Gordon's eyes narrowed. "Not having been there, I can't comment. But you do understand that your actions will be watched more closely if you're starting to use lethal force. I may not be able to save you from a murder charge if you kill someone without just cause." He paused. "I really don't like this, Batman. I don't like it at all."

"Jim, I won't lose another son to a...a criminal. I have to protect my own in any way I can," Batman's voice had gotten grittier. "Surely you can understand that, with Barbara."

Gordon sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I do understand...All right," he said, raising his voice. "You can go now, Batman. I'll contact you if I have any more questions. And," he went on, more softly. "Take care of the family you have left." He stopped. "Oh yes, some mail arrived for you at the station." He pulled a green envelope, enclosed in a sealed plastic bag, out of his pocket and handed it to Batman. "I think the Joker sent you a condolence card."

Taking the card, Batman said, "You should back away, Jim. I'm wearing protective gear and a respirator but you aren't." After Gordon had moved a safe distance away, Batman carefully opened the plastic bag.

It was a homemade card lettered in purple ink. The jagged printing showed a Robin hanging by a noose on the front page. The inside read: "I heard that you just buried your first Robin. I'm so sorry that it wasn't me that killed him. I did the Second, should I try for the Third?"

Batman read it, lips whitening, then abruptly crumpled the paper into a ball and stuffed it into a belt pouch.

"Anything to worry about?" Gordon asked, watching Batman anxiously.

"No." Batman pulled out his grapnel and fired, moving swiftly away from the scene.

* * *

The images swirled again, back to the batcave. Clearly this was immediately after the jewelry store robbery. Tim, mask off but still in uniform was arguing with Batman. Jason stood to one side, arms folded over chest and a smirk on his unmasked face.

"You said 'no guns'! From the very beginning you hated firearms," Tim shouted. "Now you're going out with a pistol strapped to your side and you're using it! What about all those unarmed defenses you insisted I learn? What about using non-lethal means to fight crime? You and Dick never had to resort to firearms..." Tim abruptly stopped and absently covered his mouth. Mention of Dick's name was still painful to everyone and especially Bruce.

"Times change and it's the way I plan to work in the future. I noticed some deficiencies in your performance today, Tim. You missed a gunman and you would have died if I hadn't been armed," Bruce's eyes were blazing and rage was radiating from his body. "This really is too dangerous if you're not mature enough to handle the risks."

"Handle the risks?" Tim's voice rose and to his shame he heard it break with emotion. "I've been handling the risks since I was fourteen!"

Batman eyed Tim, then glanced at Jason. "Tim, I'm sorry but I think you need to take some time off. Dick's...murder...has distracted you and that puts you in danger. You're a danger to yourself and your partners. I want you to leave the Robin uniform here and give Alfred your keys to the Manor."

Tim was appalled. "You're kicking me out? I didn't do anything wrong! I just...I just..." He looked into Bruce's implacable eyes and his own anger grew into rage, especially when he saw the satisfaction in Jason's eyes. "So, you don't want me as Robin anymore, huh? You've found another one, more experienced, more _lethal._.. Okay, here you go!" As he stood there, Tim peeled off the Robin uniform until he stood in his underwear. Biting back the tears he stacked his boots on the table with the rest of the outfit. "You were wrong about Dick and you're wrong about me, Bruce. I just hope you realize it before it's too late!"

He turned and ran up the stairs to the Manor. In his room, he packed a duffle with his day clothing in it, then found Alfred in the kitchen.

Alfred, who was preparing dinner, stopped peeling potatoes when he saw Tim's face.

"My dear boy, what's wrong?" Alfred asked, putting down knife and potato.

"Batman just fired me," Tim said, unable to keep his voice steady. "I made a mistake today and Batman said...he said it wasn't safe for me to be out there. He said I should give you the keys to the manor and get out." With shaking hands, Tim pulled his keys out of his jeans' pocket and offered them to Alfred.

Alfred sighed and refused to take the keys. "Oh dear," he said. "Timothy, you must forgive Master Bruce if you can. Master Dick's death has hit him very hard. You'd best take some leave for a bit, let him settle down. " Alfred reached into a drawer and removed another set of keys, pressing them into Tim's hand. "Master Dick keeps...kept...an apartment in New York City. When he was fired, he went there and used it as his base of operations. When he became established as Nightwing, he passed the keys to me in case you should ever need a place to go. As he put it, 'From one Robin to another.'"

"This is Dick's old apartment? The one he used to share with Kory?" Tim asked. "I know where that is."

"Yes, lad. You have your credit cards? Good. The money is yours in any case, deriving from your own shares of Wayne Enterprises. Take some time for yourself. "

Tim's eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he leaned in and gave the old butler a hug. "I'll keep in touch, Alfred. Oracle will always know where to reach me. And call me if you need me, okay?"

"I shall, my dear boy. Count on it," Alfred said, his own lips trembling as he watched young Tim leave. Bruce Wayne was known for driving away others when he was in pain; Master Dick had often complained about his propensity for isolation. Alfred sighed. He'd known that Master Bruce would take Master Dick's death hard, but the time ahead would be all the darker for Timothy's absence.

* * *

On the grass, Dick was standing up with fists balled in fury. "DAMN HIM! He's fired the only clear-thinking person he has on the team. Jason is going to get him killed!"

"I think that he was trying to protect your younger brother, Timothy is it? His motives are good ones," Tathenniel said.

"That's not the point. He fired me the same way and I was screwed up for years, convinced that I was incompetent and I'd let him down when he was really trying to protect me. If he'd just said that it would have been so much easier, but Bruce has never been like that." Dick sagged and dropped back to the grass. "And when he needs people most, he pushes them away so that he can brood by himself in the dark. Damn him..."

"I suspect that he is damning himself," Tathenniel said softly.


	9. Darkness Falling

CHAPTER 10

Tim looked around Dick's apartment. He hadn't gotten a very good look on previous visits but it seemed like this would be home for a while. The key ring Alfred had given him had multiple keys on it. One had opened the apartment door and another the mailbox downstairs. He wondered what the others were for. The apartment itself was furnished, if sparsely. Dick had left the bedroom furnished and a couch with big screen tv in the living room. Kitchen had a microwave and dinette set,. Okay. He had the necessities, he supposed.

Being a member of the bat-family, he started looking for secret panels and doors. Bingo! A small hatch in the bedroom ceiling popped open and an extendable ladder came down. Tim climbed it and found himself on the rooftop, looking out over the New York skyline. Good. He had an exit if he wanted one.

Climbing down, he kept looking and found a small keyhole in the back of the closet. The smallest key fit perfectly and the back of the closet swung into...the next apartment? Wow. He was impressed. Dick had left an arsenal tucked away in here as well as a well-appointed work out area. Everything the well-equipped hero needed. He found the last key on the ring and started looking for keyholes.

One more panel slid open and he found Dick's uniforms. As he handled them, a deep sadness hit him in the gut. Dick wouldn't be coming back to reclaim the uniforms or the Nightwing persona. The world had lost a great hero with his death. And here was Tim, not Robin anymore. Not anyone, really.

He'd become Robin as a result of his lifelong obsession with Batman, but that was over now. He hadn't planned on continuing the superhero-life, hadn't really thought about it truthfully. He was just getting over the shock of Batman's sudden action. So why couldn't he honor the brother he'd adopted and keep using the skills he'd worked so hard to attain? He fingered a uniform. He'd want to personalize it a bit. Not a problem. The first thing a new recruit learned was how to sew so that he could repair his own costumes. He pulled the Nightwing suit off it's hangar and took it back into the workroom. Nightwing wasn't dead, not anymore. He worked over the costume, finally deciding to keep the motif that Nightwing had established but to change the logo and stripe to red. Red for the blood Nightwing had shed for others. This would be a more fitting memorial to Dick Grayson than any grave marker they could put up.

Costume finished, Tim tried it on and got a look at himself. He could feel himself grin for the first time since Dick had been killed. He was ready to go out and kick some criminal ass in Dick's memory. The only difference, aside from the uniform would be his weapon of choice. He'd never liked the escrima sticks much. He strapped his retractable bo staff to his back and he was ready for the night.

* * *

"Good for you, Tim!" Dick shouted at the column. "I always thought you might need the space. That's why I left all the stuff behind." The images swirled and he saw a young Nightwing with a red bird logo taking to the New York City skies, then fighting alongside the Titans. He felt relieved, a quiet worry lifted. Tim was going to be okay.

* * *

The images shifted in the column again. It was Wayne manor on a foggy morning about two weeks after Dick's burial.

"Sir, an Amy Rohrbach to see you," Alfred announced. Bruce looked up from his desk. Dick was startled at how bad he looked. Bruce's eyes had circles beneath them and deep lines were carved in his forehead and cheeks as though he'd aged twenty years in the past fourteen days.

"Go ahead and show her in," Bruce replied in a hoarse voice. He took a sip of coffee, grimaced and added a slug of whisky from a bottle in a desk drawer. He took another sip and grimaced again but looked reasonably attentive when Amy was shown in.

At least she hadn't changed much, but Dick cringed when he saw that Amy had quickly noticed Bruce's condition and clearly smelled the alcohol.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Wayne," she said. "Although I can't say that the circumstances are very good. I can't tell you how sorry I was to hear about Dick."

"Just call me Bruce, if you would," he replied, the polished surface of the socialite Bruce Wayne coming out briefly. Then his eyes saddened again. "I know how close you were to Dick. How can I help you?"

"I just...feel uncomfortable about this," she reached into her pocket and drew out an envelope. "This check...it's more than I earn in five years. I don't understand."

Bruce sighed. "It should be clear enough in the cover letter. I'm the executor of Dick's will and he left you the money fair and square. I know how much he respected you and loved your family. He has no use for it now and it is...was... his money, not mine. Please feel free to accept his bequest."

"Oh," she said, looking down at the check before replacing it in her pocket. "I...uh...also wanted to ask about how he died," Amy said then jerked when they both heard a soft tap at the door.

"That will be Alfred with the tea," Bruce said smoothly, grateful for the opportunity to muster his thoughts. Amy was sharp. Was that tall tale about high power lines going to hold up?

Alfred stood in the doorway with the silver tea service and the antique china cups. That alone told Bruce that he liked Amy. Everyone else got the modern china. "Please set it down on the table in front of the fireplace, Alfred. Captain Rohrbach, why don't we move over here," Bruce said easily.

"Just call me Amy, please," she said while taking a seat on the sofa. "Shall I pour?"

Bruce caught Alfred's smile of pleasure at this woman who knew the social niceties. "If you would."

Alfred left quietly and Bruce had to answer. "I...ah...wasn't there when it happened but I can tell you what the police report said," he said while Amy poured him a cupful of his favorite Lapsang souchong. "No sugar please, I take it plain," he said.

Amy nodded, then took a sip of her tea black as well. "I don't believe that police report and I know that you don't either...Batman," she said. Before he could react, she rushed ahead. "I know that Dick was Nightwing. I figured it out while I was working with him. He got me and my family out of Bludhaven after Chemo destroyed it. And you don't have to worry about my telling anyone. I owe Dick and I pay my debts," she said, meeting Bruce's eyes.

The denial Bruce was about to make slipped away. Suddenly it was just too much trouble to tell lies that this woman would see through. "What do you want to know?" he asked, voice very tired.

"You were there?" she asked.

"Yes. I was," Bruce replied, putting his cup down. "He died saving me. He jumped in front of an energy bolt meant for me and it killed him almost instantly. There was nothing we could do." He slumped in his chair, exhaustion in every line.

"I understand that attendance at his funeral was pretty large," Amy replied, pouring him another cup of tea. "I'm guessing that the Justice League attended?"

Bruce began to sip at his hot tea. "Yes. The entire JLA was there, which was unprecedented. Normally the League can't agree long enough to decide what color the banners on the building should be. This time, they insisted that Dick's funeral be open to all who'd worked with him regardless of my arguments against it." He smiled faintly. "I even lost to Superman and I usually win my arguments with him."

Amy eyed him sharply. "And how are you holding up? If you don't mind my asking?"

"I do mind your asking, actually," Bruce replied.

"I was Dick's friend and his trainer on the force and I can tell you that if a trainee showed up for work looking like you do, I'd send him home as unfit for duty," Amy said. "Now, you don't work for me but you're Dick's...father...I suppose and Dick cared about you. A lot." She took a sip of her tea and stared at him over the rim of the cup. "So I'll give you the advice I'd give Dick. Take a vacation. Take time off. Rest. Sleep if you can but don't go out doing whatever it is that Batman does until you're a lot less distracted or they'll be planting you right next to Dick someday soon."

Visibly controlling his temper, Bruce set his cup down and said coldly, "Perhaps you'd like to see Dick's grave," he pressed a button and Alfred appeared quickly. "Would you take Captain Rohrbach down to see Dick's grave? She'd like to pay her respects."

Amy stood up and gave Bruce a look of compassion. "I'm sorry if I was out of line but Dick, y'know he loved you. I'm just saying what he would say if he were here." She turned to Alfred with a smile. "I'd like to see it now, if possible."

"This way, ma'am," Alfred said and left the room, Amy following behind. Standing at the window, Bruce watched Alfred lead her through the gardens. He couldn't deny that Amy had a point but...He glanced back at his first cup, heavily fortified with whisky and sat down to finish it.

Alfred took Amy through the gate into the cemetery area. Next to the large monuments to Thomas and Martha Wayne was an equally large marble with a stylized angel in flight, its body taut and athletic, straining for the sky. The stone was so white, it seemed to glow. "The marble is beautiful," she said.

"It's Carrara marble, taken from the same quarry that Michelangelo used for his sculptures, especially the Pieta," Alfred commented.

"I see," Amy said, then read the inscription:

**_Richard John Grayson Wayne_**  
**_It is not flesh and blood, but heart which makes us fathers and sons. ~Friedrich von Schiller_**

She ran her hand down the smooth marble and remembered her rookie, later her partner. Then she noticed the old man watching her. "You loved him too, didn't you?" she asked.

"He was like a grandson to me," Alfred replied. "You were right, you know, to take Master Bruce to task. Master Dick would have said just the same things you did."

"How did you know? Were you listening at the door?" Amy demanded, half-laughing.

"Ah, no. Security cameras," Alfred confessed. "A failing of mine, alas. Especially now, when Master Bruce is so...wounded..,.by Master Dick's passing."

"I can understand how he feels," Amy said, noting that the face of the stylized angel on the stone bore a striking resemblance to her former trainee and partner. "I don't think that Mr. Wayne liked what I had to say."

"Without a doubt, he did not," Alfred replied. "But you were right. He has reacted badly. I fear he has lost himself and I don't know if he will ever recover from this loss. But I am droning on, Captain Rohrbach. I should allow you to be on your way."

"Amy, please Alfred. Dick spoke of you often and I feel like I know you. I also know that Dick would want me to help if I can. If there is ever anything I can do to help, I hope that you will call on me," Amy said, gently laying a hand on Alfred's shoulder.

"That is a very generous offer, Miss Amy," Alfred replied. "And I am not surprised. Master Dick always had excellent taste in friends. Be assured that I will call on you if necessary. Now, allow me to lead you to your car."

At the car, Amy shook Alfred's hand, noting how frail he seemed. "I meant my offer, Alfred. Dick would come back and kick my butt if I weren't there for you. Understood?"

"Understood," Alfred said. 'And I thank you for dropping by."

Alfred returned to the house to find Bruce Wayne standing in the window, observing Amy's car as it rolled away down the drive.

"You do know that she was right, sir," the butler said. "She told you nothing more than the truth."

"I know," Wayne said, still looking out the window. "Alfred, have you ever felt like the darkness was closing in?"

"Many times, sir," Alfred said softly. "But there is always the light of hope in those situations."

"My hope is buried out there in the garden. I'm going through the motions, and there is nothing out there but darkness. Even when we were estranged, when he wouldn't talk to me, I always knew he was out there. He was being the man I raised him to be, and I was proud of that."

Alfred laid a hand on his master's shoulder. "You are not alone, Master Bruce. The darkness will recede. Have faith in that."

"Thank you old friend," he replied. "I wish I could believe that."

* * *

Author's Note: Please, feed the muse. Leave reviews. It makes the writer feel loved.


	10. Lost in the Dark

Dick sat in front of the column, silent now, his chin resting on his knees. "What is it you're looking for, anyway?" he asked in defeat. "What will it take to make you give up and send me back? Or is this some kind of "A Christmas Carol" exercise to make me more grateful for the friends and family I've left behind?"

"As I said before, I am looking to see the results of your death on those around you and how the timeline changes because of...ah...let's stop here," he said, as the images came to a stop. "Yes, this is interesting," Tathenniel said.

* * *

Bruce Wayne lay in bed, tossing and flailing. "I think he's having nightmares," Tathenniel said. "Let's find out what about." He waved a hand and images began racing across the column, finally settling into a picture of a mammoth cave with bats clinging to the ceiling. Batman went down a flight of stone steps into the batcave, approaching the computer bays. A small figure sat in a swivel chair in front of a set of computer screens.

As he approached, the figure in the chair, a boy with unruly dark hair, swung around to face Batman. The boy wore a red tunic with green sleeves and a yellow cape with short green pants and pixie boots. A domino mask covered his eyes.

Seeing the boy there, Batman realized that it had all been a terrible nightmare. Dick wasn't dead. He hadn't grown up and gotten himself killed. There was still time. "Dick!" Batman said with an enormous grin. "You're alive! Thank God, it must have just been all a dream..."

The boy glared steadily at his mentor. "Batman, I died. I died for you at Alex Luthor's hands. You failed me. I died and it's all your fault."

Batman stopped in his tracks. "But...but you're here. You're not grown up...You're still Robin...It isn't too late, it can't be..."

"You promised to watch my back, Batman," the boy stood, took off his mask and began to walk toward his mentor. "You promised to take care of me, to protect me, but you let somebody kill me. Someone took me away from you. Forever. "The boy looked wistful. "After my parents died, I thought I was _safe_ with you, Bruce."

"But...I couldn't protect you. Forgive me, Dick...Please forgive me," Batman pulled the cowl off his head so that the boy could see his entire face. "It happened so fast, before I could react...Luthor had hit you with the power bolt and..and I watched you die." Bruce's voice trailed off into a whisper as he fell to his knees in front of his accuser. "There was nothing I could do...except get Luthor and make him pay for killing you..I...I _tried_..."

"You didn't try hard enough, Bruce. So, you made him pay, by murdering him yourself! How could you, Bruce?" The boy pointed to a spot of wax on the floor between them. "Don't you remember the oath that you made me swear: 'We two will fight together against crime and corruption, and never to swerve from the path of righteousness'. Are you feeling righteous now, Batman? Ask the people you've shot!" The boy began to transform from a young Robin into a grown Nightwing, standing before Batman in the melted tatters of his uniform, maskless and blue eyes aflame. "And now, what's happening? You're carrying a gun. You've teamed up with Jason, whom we both know is psychotic, and you're letting him teach you how to shoot...!"

"Dick...I never meant...I mean..." Batman stumbled to his feet. "I saved Tim's life by shooting the man who was about to kill him!"

"Yeah, I know," Nightwing said. "What? You don't know how to use a batarang anymore, Bruce? So, you shoot the goon who treatens Tim, then to keep Tim safe, you fired him just like you fired me. You chased him out of Gotham and out of your sight, just like you banished me from your life. It obviously doesn't work, does it? Now that you aren't watching over him anymore, if he dies, you don't have to see it. Coward. You've always been a coward, Bruce Wayne. .." Nightwing moved close to Batman until their noses almost touched. "Every time I ever got injured, you'd bring me in and dump me on Alfred, then you'd disappear. It was Alfred who took care of me, not my coward father who couldn't stand to see me when I was hurt or in pain. No, you hid in your office or in the batmobile or miles away where you didn't have to see the results of this life that you brought me into."

Batman started to back away, shaking his head. "No..It wasn't like that. Alfred had the training, not me. I had to bring the criminals to justice and I knew that you were being cared for..."

Nightwing sneered and followed. "The only time you ever had to watch me in pain was the time Two-Face did a number on me when I was nine. And even then, you dumped me at Leslie's, then forced me out of Wayne Manor when I was almost recovered, because you couldn't stand to hear me screaming with nightmares night after night. I couldn't be Robin anymore because you'd fired me and I knew I didn't have a place in your life anymore.."

"Dick, I'm so sorry...I never meant it that way. The Manor is your home, it always was. We were frantic when you ran away," Batman tried to explain himself.

"_Alfred_ was frantic. You let me go. Oh, you let me be Robin again. But you have never admitted to yourself that it was always inevitable that someday this life would kill me. It was always foreordained that some supervillain would end me. So, when I died, I was facing my death like a man, wasn't I?" Nightwing demanded. "There was nothing, nothing but some flimsy body armor between me and a blast of lightening."

"You know how it happened," Batman said grimly. "You died a hero. You saved my life, and I'm grateful to you. It was my fault, Dick. I wasn't watching...all my fault...all my fault...all my fault...I'm so sorry, Dick..."

"Sir...sir...Master Bruce, wake up. You're having a nightmare!"

Bruce felt himself being shaken and realized that he was on the floor beside his bed, all the covers torn off and piled around him. He turned bleary eyes up at Alfred. "Alfred? I...I was with Dick..."

"So I understand," Alfred said sadly. "It was just a dream, sir. Come, I have some coffee for you," he said, helping his master up.

"He was right. It's all my fault. I've always avoided the consequences of recruiting him as Robin. I was never there after he was injured, I just dumped him on you to treat. I'm sorry, Alfred," Bruce met his oldest friend's gaze. "I am a coward. I can face the most dangerous villain, but my own son's pain..."

"I always understood, Master Bruce," Alfred said gently. "But it wasn't because you didn't care. It was because you cared so much; you could never bear seeing the lad in pain. I could help you both by using my skills to heal the young Master, thereby giving you the distance you needed. The Batman couldn't afford being tied up in emotional knots, sir." The old butler eyed his master. "And he still cannot. Perhaps you should take a leave and allow yourself to grieve."

By this time, Bruce was seated at the breakfast table, still clad in his pajamas. He picked up the cup of black coffee Alfred had poured him, noticing idly that his hand was trembling.

"Would you like to discuss your nightmare? It might help if you talk about it." Alfred poured himself a cup of tea and sat down opposite.

Bruce's lips tightened. "He was Robin, in the batcave. At first, I thought that all this had been a nightmare..that I was mistaken and Dick wasn't dead." He rubbed his face with a hand, then looked away to hide the moisture. "I was so glad, relieved that it hadn't happened after all. But I was wrong and he blamed me. He'd died for me, because of me. If I'd never made him Robin and denied the dangers all those years...My fault..." Bruce shook his head and sipped at his coffee, then grimaced. "This think needs a shot of whiskey.."

"There have been entirely too many shots of whiskey in your coffee of late," Alfred said tartly. "You know that Master Dick would never blame you for what happened. He gave his life for yours; he chose to save you, and you know why."

Bruce continued to look away. "I know that he loved me, Alfred. I was his father and he _trusted_ me...He trusted me and I let him down."

* * *

Sitting on the emerald grass in the bright sunshine, Dick was curled up, knees to chin again. "Bruce, you idiot," Dick said. "You're blaming yourself again, damn you. I don't blame you for anything. I had the best childhood anyone could ask for and I always knew the risks. I chose my actions and I guess I chose my death. I wouldn't do any of it differently."

Tathenniel shook his head. "What he saw in his dream springs from the darkness in his own soul. Interesting that he sees you first as a nine year old Robin, typical of most parents."

Dick grinned a bit. "You mean, he'll always see me as a nine year old? Figures." He scrubbed at his eyes, then said, "So, what now?"

"More to analyze... " said Tathenniel and lifted a hand.

* * *

The images coalesced into two figures, Superman and Wonder Woman, standing in the hall of the Justice League at the railing overlooking the gardens.

"Penny for your thoughts, Clark," Wonder Woman approached Superman, who stood, looking sad and thoughtful.

"It's been a year, Diana. One year today," he said. "We lost so many."

"You aren't thinking of them, are you?" She sighed and leaned on the railing next to him. "He was such a promising boy, pity he wasn't born a girl. He'd have made a wonderful Amazon."

Clark smiled. "Somehow, I can't imagine Dick Grayson as an Amazon, but I think he'd appreciate the compliment. Bruce has been lost since Dick was killed."

Wonder Woman frowned a bit. "Didn't Batman try to turn himself in to the authorities?"

Superman nodded. "For the murder of Alex Luthor. I had to explain to him that the President gave a blanket pardon to any heroes with American citizenship who killed during the Crisis. Bruce looked hagridden when I told him that, as though he has some terrible sin on his soul and no way to atone. I don't think Luthor was it."

"You think he wanted to atone for something else?" Wonder Woman asked.

"He said something about having nightmares where Dick comes back and blames him."

"Blames him? For what?" Wonder Woman said.

"Everything. For failing to protect him enough when the boy was Robin, for failing to prevent Nightwing's death. Bruce seems to believe in his heart of hearts that because he asked Nightwing to gather a force and fight in the Crisis, that he personally executed him," Superman said heavily. "You haven't seen Bruce lately, have you? He's lost weight, even though Alfred keeps trying to feed him up. He's alone in the dark and can't find the light."

"Is he still working with Jason?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Yes," Superman sighed. "Now that Tim has taken over Nightwing's role, Bruce says that Jason is all he has left, that he wants to help him. Seems to me the influence is going the other way around with Jason encouraging Bruce's aggression and violence. I'm afraid that Bruce will just give up and stop trying to stay on the right side of the line. Kill too many times and it becomes easier each time."

* * *

Batman and Red Hood swung through the streets of Gotham and where they had been, bleeding and mangled crooks remained. Dick watched with horror as Jason executed the Penguin with a single bullet while Batman stood by, watching. The crime rates dropped as criminals ran in fear from the night vigilantes.

The shootings continued. Gangsters that Dick had known and dealt with for years died bloody and violent deaths at the hand of the Red Hood while Batman stood to one side. The images stopped and came into focus in a dim warehouse. The Joker was pinned against a wall, with a dark shadow bearing down on him.

"I should have done this years ago, but I never had the stomach for it," Batman's voice sounded gravelly and icy cold. "They stopped me after you murdered Robin and, fool that I was, I thought that your life was worth something. When I remember all the people who have died because of you..." He held a pistol in a practiced grip, taking aim.

Joker, gun to his heart, laughed loudly. "Hee hee hee! So now I'm the saint and you're the serial killer, eh Batsie! I always knew it would come to this. Either you or me, Bats, you or me. But what's this? No crowbar? If you don't use a crowbar, I absolutely refuse to die...I mean, where's the style in that? Where's the...style..."

A bullet hole had appeared in the Joker's side. The Joker looked down a the rapidly spreading blood stain. "Hey, Batsie, you missed. You were going for a headshot, weren't you?"

A second shot rang out, blowing the top of Joker's head off. From the side, Red Hood walked over to the body and kicked it over with a look of satisfaction.

"You froze again, Batman," Red Hood said. "Still with the hero-ethics, huh? Anyway, the Joker's no great loss. He won't murder anyone, anymore." Red Hood turned to Batman. "And nobody else will ever again lose a son to that monster."

Batman inhaled sharply, then holstered his gun. "You're right, Red Hood," he put a hand on his partner's shoulder. "Let's go home. I feel like I need a shower."

* * *

Gordon met Batman on the roof of the Gotham Police Department for the last time. Tathenniel moved a hand and suddenly Dick could see and hear.

"You know how many deaths there have been in the past six months," Gordon was saying. "I'd blame it on a new serial killer if I didn't know better. I know that you're working with the Red Hood and he's the murderer. If you don't stop, I'll arrest you as an accessory."

"It's not murder. It's justice," Batman's rough voice came out of the darkness.

"Batman, _they weren't responsible _for killing Nightwing! Alex Luthor did it and he's gone, now," Gordon said with a sigh. "Your partnership stops NOW or there will be consequences. Batman? Batman! Don't disappear on me again!"

"He's too far gone, Dad," Barbara rolled her chair into the light of the bat-signal. "When Nightwing died, I think that something broke inside him. It's like he's trapped in the dark and can't find his way out."

"You know that I have no choice now, Barbara," Gordon replied. "Regardless of all the things he's done for the city, I can't let this continue. "

"I understand, Dad," Barbara said sadly.


	11. Zurr en Arrrh

sorry about the delay. I fell and broke my elbow; just got out and while i can't type yet, here is a short chapter i had ready. reviews pls? The pain meds they gave me in hospital gave me hallucinations and much new insight on joker...

CHAPTER 12

Batman made his way silently back to the batcave. He was tired, so very weary. It wasn't a physical exhaustion, he recognized, rather it was a darkness of the soul. The past year had been hellish, ever since Dick... The nightmares had been getting worse, too. Alfred had insisted on getting him some sleeping pills, but he'd been palming them. With the nightmares waiting for him, the last thing he wanted was sleep. He didn't wake rested, anyway. He'd sleep when he was dead.

He pulled into the cave and saw that Jason had already arrived. Jay had made over Nightwing's bike; it was now enameled in colors of black, gray and red. He had dimly noticed that Jason had taken over many of Dick's belongings and prerogatives. Rather than moving back into his own room, he'd taken Dick's old suite, saying that it was bigger and more convenient. He seemed to be glorying in his new status as Bruce's 'oldest' living son. Bruce hadn't argued with him. He'd been too wrapped up in mourning Dick to bother with what he deemed trivialities, regardless of what Alfred had to say.

He parked the batmobile, changed out of his uniform and made his way, as he often did now, to Dick's gravesite. He'd had a marble bench installed next to it. Since patrol usually ended near dawn, he'd gotten into the habit of watching the sun rise from the bench. Seeing the glory of dawn light shining from behind Dick's monument comforted him. It seemed to bring Dick closer somehow, watching the statue of the angel leaping for the sky just as Dick used to.

He sat down, hunching into his jacket against the cold, and watched the gray sky turn rose colored. "Good morning, Son," he said softly. "I'm sorry I almost never called you 'Son' when you were alive; I think the last time was the day that Joker shot you... I even avoided the topic most of your adult life. I regret that. I regret a lot of things now..." He fell silent, watching the east brighten over the trees. "The Joker died last night. I didn't shoot him, but I planned to. I froze at the last second and Jason shot him for me. I know how you'd feel about that, both my intending to kill a man and allowing Jason to murder in my presence. I...don't know what to tell you, Dick, except that it was necessary. It felt necessary after all the pain that the Joker has caused. I know that what he did to Barbara hurt you, hurt all of us. Jason deserved some recompense for all that he lost...After Alex Luthor took you away from me, I decided not to allow this kind of crime to go unpunished anymore." He stopped and watched the brightening sky, hearing the birds start to sing. Dick would have loved a morning like this, so full of promise. When he was a child, 4:00 a.m. was time to get up and do the morning workout. He and Dick had often run the grounds in a two mile loop, regardless of the weather. Dick had often climbed the trees along the pathway and swung limb from limb, daring Bruce to chase him. Bruce smiled. A few times he'd taken the kid up on it. He'd even caught the little monkey once. His smile faded.

His conversation with Gordon hadn't gone well. There might be an arrest warrant out for him, but he truly couldn't bring himself to care. He'd lost so much in the past year that the rest of life seemed flat. Of course, since Gordon knew who he was, the police might come right to Wayne Manor to arrest him. He stood up slowly. He'd deal with that when and if it came.

The footsteps he'd heard coming down the path materialized into Alfred with a thermos. "Knowing how you like to watch the sun rise from this point, sir, I thought I would bring you some hot coffee," he said.

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce said, allowing Alfred to fill the mug he'd brought with him.

"It looks like we'll have a clear but crisp day, Master Bruce," Alfred commented, resealing the thermos. "Just the sort of day that you and Master Dick used to enjoy your cross-country runs."

"Yes," Bruce said. "Not too hot, not too cold. Pity that Jason doesn't like running in the country."

Alfred cleared his throat. "About Master Jason, sir. I understand that some blood was shed last night."

Bruce's eyebrows drew in. "Yes," he replied warily. "The Joker died."

"Master Jason's work?"

"Yes," Bruce replied. "And your interest?"

"Just that the news has reported this morning that the Joker was found dead this morning and that it is being considered a suicide, sir." Alfred waited patiently for Bruce's response.

"Gordon spoke with me last night but I had no idea..." Bruce pursed his lips and handed the mug back to Alfred.

"A considerable favor to you," Alfred said steadily. "But I would not expect any further consideration on the Commissioner's part for any future deaths."

"No, I wouldn't either, Alfred. But I imagine that Barbara's situation entered into it as well," Bruce said.

"I know that we have discussed this before, but ...I can't imagine that Master Dick would have approved your actions of late. Were he still alive, he would be working actively to, as I believe he would put it, 'take you down'". Alfred tucked the thermos under his arm and turned to go.

"Alfred," Bruce said.

"Yes sir?"

"He would say that. And at this point, he'd probably succeed," Bruce sighed. "I'm tired...tired to the soul..."

"Well then, Master Bruce, may I recommend that you get some sleep. Come upstairs. You will feel better after a rest." The butler gestured towards the path leading to the house. His master trudged his way up the gravel path, followed by loyal servant.

Bruce collapsed into bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow. This time, Dick was dressed as Nightwing, leaning casually against the side of the batmobile. "Bruce, you idiot. You're not getting enough rest and Jason is going to set the entire Gotham Police Department after you. Why on earth are you still partnering with him?"

"I need backup, Dick. I can't do this alone," Batman found himself explaining. "I don't have you anymore."

"Yeah, and you drove Tim out of Gotham. All you have to do is call him back, Bruce. You know he'd be here in an instant. He's doing good work in New York. You know that, too!" Dick shifted his weight, no longer casual. "Gordon isn't going to let another killing slide. Whether or not you pulled the trigger, you're an accessory Bruce. You ought to know, _you_ taught _me_ the Criminal Code. If you don't break with Jason, you'll be so far over the line that there's no turning back!"

With that, Dick faded out and was replaced by darkness and the sound of voices, shouting "Killer! Murderer!" Bruce looked up and saw his parents, repeating those words, shouting them at him.

The words were still ringing in his head when he woke to the sound of a telephone ringing, elsewhere in the house. Alfred appeared, face apologetic. "I am sorry, sir. But there is a Wayne Foundation Charity Event on your calendar that I neglected to remind you of. Your plane leaves for London this afternoon..."

"It's all right, Alfred," Bruce muttered, dragging himself out of bed. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

Tathenniel's face lit up and he sped through the next several months. "Yes, yes I think that this is it. Matters are coming to a head."

"What matters?" Dick asked. "How can you see anything when the images are moving so fast? Who is that woman Bruce is with?"

"Her name is Jezebel Jet. A fashion model who rules a small country, inherited from her murdered father. But I think that she is more than she seems..." The angel gestured and the images stopped.

"Wait a minute, they're invading the batcave!" Dick stepped closer to the images. "They're beating up Alfred...and what are they doing to Bruce? They're injecting him with something...drugs..." Dick squinted, reading the words on the computer screens. "Zur en arrh...Oh my God, I haven't heard that phrase in a long, long time..." He backed away from the pillar.

"And what does 'zur en arrh' mean to you?" Tathenniel asked as Dick stood still, face white with tension.

"A long time ago, when I was about twelve, Batman volunteered for an isolation experiment run by a Doctor Simon Hurt," Dick began. "Batman didn't tell me about it. He left a note for me with Commissioner Gordon, to be delivered after two days. He was in the isolation chamber for ten days before they had to pull him out. He was suicidal."

"Suicidal? Why?" Tathennial asked.

"He believed that he was trapped on an alien planet and that I was there with him. In his dreams, I was crushed by a boulder, killed by some kind of animated statue-creature, before Batman could get to me. Batman said... he felt that it was his fault that I'd been killed. He buried me and wandered away alone, then finally decided that..." Dick swallowed hard. "That, if I was dead, he didn't want to live. At the end, he just lay down and invited the next creature he saw to kill him because he just couldn't stand it anymore. Because I was dead and it was his fault..."


	12. Dr Hurt

Chapter 12

" Were you present for any of this?" Tathenniel asked. " How long were you in the room?"

"Commissioner Gordon had left a note for me. When I found out, Batman had already been in the chamber for two days. I stood outside and watched for eight more," Dick said miserably. "Dr. Hurt had him locked in an isolation chamber and he had already begun to hallucinate. Every time I tried to get him to break it off, the doctor stopped me." Dick laughed bitterly. "At the time, I didn't suspect him of ulterior motives but I probably should have." Dick's eyes narrowed. "Over time, Batman only got worse. From what he was saying it was clear that he believed that I had been killed by some kind of rock monster. As we watched, he went through the motions of burying me and then Batman began to stumble around the room and it sounded like he believed he was wandering through the alien wilderness." Dick's lips pressed together. "At that point, I made Dr. Hurt let me inside the chamber. Even though I stood in front of Batman and shouted at him, he didn't hear me. He stayed convinced that I had been killed and that it was his fault. That happened about day seven. Then Batman began muttering something about eyes watching him. I looked around but nothing had changed in the chamber except that Dr. Hurt was recording the proceedings." Eyes closed in memory, Dick went on. " Finally Batman began to talk about being watched by creatures with huge glowing eyes, and one approached him as if to attack. I will still remember what he was saying at the end. Said that he was faced with an alien beast and he was too weak to run or fight. So let it come, he said. He didn't want to live, that it was his fault I had died. "

Finally, Dr. Hurt had the chamber door opened and we all rushed in. Dr. Hurt woke Batman up and he seemed to realize where he was and he recognized me. " Dick stood, watching the figures move in the column.

"Dr. Hurt said that Batman's hallucinations came from his deep concern about my safety and said that there might be side effects..." Dick looked up at Tathenniel, eyes bitter. "For all I know Dr. Hurt had Batman primed for those side effects. For two weeks afterward, every time we went on patrol, Batman would see some real or imaginary threat to my life and dive in to save me. The trouble was, he was so paranoid that he almost got both of us killed several times while trying to "rescue" me. Finally he was preparing to retire as Batman and give it all up because he felt that he was a danger to me until that final patrol. I was in real danger and Batman was the only one who could save me. Somehow that made him snap out of it. He saved my life, then realized that his other fears had been mostly imaginary. Still, I have to wonder how much of that was implanted by Dr. Hurt before I ever got Commissioner Gordon's note. I had hoped that he had forgotten all about Zur en Arrh, because all it will ever mean to him is loss and death. So, you believe that Dr. Hurt is hunting Bruce?"

Tathenniel paused and replied. "This will open a can of worms. Are you familiar with a criminal organization called the Black Glove? It may surprise you to know that it is run by a man calling himself Thomas Hurt and dedicated to the destruction of Bruce Wayne."

Dick's face hardened. "Then he knows who Bruce is? Has he known all this time?"

"I suspect so. Hurt was suborned by an alien device many many years ago and much of his thinking is not his own. I have been waiting for Hurt's plan to come to fruition and your death is one of the trigger points." The angel looked at the column thoughtfully. "The question has always been whether the person at the turning point is strong enough to resist all that must come."

Like began to dawn on Dick's face. "So correct me if I'm wrong. Whether I die or your other target dies isn't the important thing, is it? What interests you is the effect on Bruce. He's the focus of your investigation, isn't he?"

The angel smiled. "You are quite the detective yourself, young Richard. In the secondary timeline it is Superman's reaction to Connor's death that is of importance. In this timeline, Bruce's reaction to your death is paramount. So far he is holding his own, but I see signs of darkness entering Bruce Wayne's soul. Let us watch some more."

The two watched a dazed Bruce Wayne wander the streets of Gotham city for a day, forgetting his own identity while taking up the life of a homeless drug addict. Dick watched with horrified pity as Bruce clung to the pieces of old radio which he had dubbed the 'bat-radia'.

"Why are they trying to destroy him?" Dick muttered. "It looks like they're winning."

"The Bruce Wayne you have known has many hidden resources and a particularly persistent enemy," the angel said thoughtfully. "Don't be surprised if Zur en Arrh means something more to Batman. I suspect that Dr. Hurt has been stalking you both for many years."

The scene in the column shifted to a New York city street. A young man dressed in black with a red logo swooped down from the building top to halt a mugging. "Hey! Tim's got some moves," Dick exclaimed. "He's doing pretty well as Nightwing."

"He has tried very hard to fill your shoes," the angel said. "Although I note that he often feels despair and loneliness and being cut off from family."

"You mean Bruce hasn't called him, has he?" Dick asked, eyes focused on the rapidly moving figure in the column. "

"I believe that Alfred, your butler, e-mails him regularly and often send care packages with," the angel smiled. "Cookies and batarangs. He also makes sure that Tim has enough trust fund money to survive on. Bruce doesn't say anything, but hasn't put a stop to it either."

The image of Nightwing swung away from the mugger, leaving the crook neatly tied up for the cops. Landing on a nearby rooftop, he tapped the communicator embedded in his mask. "Nightwing to Batcave, you there Alfie?" He was answered by silence. "That's strange. Alfred are you there?" Tapping the communicator again he said, "Batman, this is Nightwing do you read?" Again he was met by silence, then heard a strange voice.

"Nightwing! At last we meet. Of course, you are not the Robin I am acquainted with, too bad about him. But do come down to the Batcave and enjoy the hospitality of the Black Glove".

"Who are you? Escalation point" Nightwing shouted. "Where's Batman?"

"He's not here right now," said the voice. "We do have his butler, however, although he is under the weather just now."

"What do you want?" Demanded Nightwing.

"Why, the destruction of Batman and all that he loves," said the voice. The line closed and Nightwing was left standing alone on top of the building. Frowning he activated indicator again. "Oracle, get me Red Hood," he said.

"Red Hood? I thought you weren't talking to Jason," said Oracle. "What's wrong?"

"Something is wrong in the Batcave. I can't get a hold of Batman or Alfred and a strange voice answered when I radioed in. I might need some help on this one. Who is available?" He heard a sigh over his earpiece.

"According to my records, the Titans are off planet and the JLA is also occupied. You might want to call night and Squire although they are a distance away. They should be able to zeta beam in using the JLA network."

Tim's sigh matched Oracle's. "That's going to take time," he agreed. "All right, I'll call Beryl. Any luck reaching Jason?"

"Nothing. But that isn't unusual. Jason mostly doesn't like people he worked with in his past who might remember him as Robin. He doesn't talk to me much. It doesn't mean he's compromised."

"I just hope he's okay," Tim said.

"Where is Jason, anyway?" Dick asked.

The images in the column shifted until they narrowed in on the Red Hood. He stood, at bay, both guns drawn surrounded by seven or eight thugs that Dick could see. All were armed, and the thugs wore broad grins. As Jason looked around himself with the grim expression, the pack moved in on him.

[Author's note: I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I am still recovering from the broken elbow but, alas, my hand is so swollen that I can't type with it. I am using a voice recognition software called Dragon to compose these chapters and it does very well on the whole, but occasionally will substitute an incorrect word for what I actually dictated. Sorry about that. Also, because of my handicap, I have not been able to think you each individually for your reviews. But please be assured that I have read each one and enjoyed them thoroughly. They remind me that I am not alone out here. Please do keep reviewing. The upcoming chapters may be short because it takes me longer to create each one but I am continuing to write as best I can.]


	13. Le Bossu

PART TWO: INTO THE DARKNESS

[Authors note: those of you who have read Batman RIP will recognize much of the dialogue and some of the story line. However since I am doing an alternate history there will be differences. The first of which is that 'Bat-Might' (so spelled in the original book because he describes what the bat 'might' do) makes an appearance in a different form. I chose one that Batman is more likely to trust. Enough said, suffice it to say that I'm warping the original story. Also, incredibly huge thanks go to Ellen and PJ, my incredibly faithful and literate betas!]

In the column, the image of Tim swung down on a decel line down to the pavement. Parked there was his old motorcycle, now repainted in the Nightwing colors and symbols. As he revved up the bike, Tim hit a speed dial number on his cell phone. He frowned when he got voicemail but left a message anyway. "Beryl, it's Tim. I've got trouble. Batman is unreachable and the Batcave is safe to go to. We need you here right away; bring the Knight and anyone else you can think of. I'll see you at the Checkpoint Five if I can but if I'm not there, move in on the Batcave. Some gang called the Black Glove is trying to take over Gotham." With that, Tim urged the bike faster and sped out of New York City towards Gotham.

While he rode, he worried. He had only been solo a few months and when he'd been Robin, Batman had always been there in the background. He had always assumed… no KNOWN… that Batman would rescue him if he ever got in over his head. Now, Batman was missing. Dick was dead and he didn't trust Jason any farther than he could throw him.

Finally, the outskirts of the city appeared. Tim began to analyze the feel of the city. Yes, it was quieter than usual, with fewer street people apparent. There was no sign of Batman or the Red Hood. Tim stopped his bike and looked around, then resolutely took a deep breath and headed toward Checkpoint Five.

* * *

Jason had his own problems. Yeah, he was armed but old advice from Batman rang through the back of his mind: "a gun is as dangerous as the person firing it." Jason wasn't feeling particularly dangerous at this moment. He heard the sound of hammers being cocked behind him and saw the glints in the eyes of those who surrounded him. Oh well, you only die twice, he consoled himself. With a grin he dove into the crowd of thugs, firing with both hands.

GOTHAM CITY

Bruce Wayne sat on the bench watching the water sparkle in the early warning sunshine. The old homeless man who had helped him so much, Honor Jackson, had disappeared leaving Bruce alone on the park bench clutching the old broken-down transistor radio Honor had given him. He decided to look up the friend that Honor had referred him to, Lone-Eye Lincoln. He slowly crept painfully to his feet and began pushing the cart down the endless blocks to Park Row .

Lone-Eye, when he found him, turned out to be young black man dressed in fashionable clothing. Bruce stumbled forward and said haltingly, "Lone-Eye Lincoln?"

"Who he? Is there a problem officer?" Lincoln replied.

"I'm not a cop. Look at me." Bruce clutched his shabby suit coat close against the wind and rain. "Honor said I'd find what I needed here."

"Honor? Honor Jackson? You been rolling with that dude, you need hard-core medication." The young man said with a smirk. "Honor Jackson **died **yesterday. Blew a hundred bucks on smack and went out like a king."

Bruce's eyes widened. "No… I met him this morning… He saved my life… He brought me here to… to… this place…" White-eyed, he looked around and recognized the buildings surrounding him. "I know this place…" He whispered. Looking up, he saw the street sign: "Park Row".

"Crime Alley. Hell's main drag," Lincoln said, looking at Bruce more closely. "But don't sweat – – I got the keys to heaven right here. You know a better way to take away the pain?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out some baggies, offering them to Bruce. "And because you're Honor's friend I'll only charge you half."

Bruce just stood there, the realization dawning that he had lost another friend, even if he had only known him for single day. Wildly he looked around, suddenly remembering how he had come onto the street. He had been dosed with a mix of methamphetamine and heroin by the Black Glove. Then dumped into the street in the hopes that he would become addicted.

If not for Honor Jackson, he would probably have died of exposure and drug overdose. But Honor had died yesterday… After Batman had seen him panhandling and given him $200. No! No, not another death on his conscience… He backed away from Lincoln and ran down Crime Alley, trying to find dark sheltered corner where he could catch his thoughts again.

He found a quiet spot and leaned against a brick wall covered with graffiti, panting for breath. He wiped the rain away from his forehead and slowly opened his eyes. Covering the wall next to him were the words "Zur-en-Arrh". He stopped and read them again, lips moving. His eyes narrowed as his mind took on a sudden clarity. He seemed to hear a familiar voice repeating his name. A young voice… Robin? Was that Dick? Saying "Batman? Batman, listen to me…"

Batman. That's who he was. Of course, Robin would know who Batman was. He was the Batman of Zur-en-Arrh. His clouded brain cleared a bit and he remembered that he was Batman. "… It would be far easier to consider this dream," he mused. "But how can I? For in my hand I hold the bat-radia and I… I am the Batman." He would need a uniform. He searched through the dumpsters and trash cans for various rags. Honor had left him a needle and spool of thread. He didn't know how it was that he could sew, but he soon had a costume prepared. He pulled on a cowl over his head, adjusted a makeshift cape, then donned a tunic with a ragged bat emblem on his chest and a pair of homemade tights. He was ready.

He sensed the presence of an intelligence beside him. Looking to his left, he saw a glowing image Nightwing, arms folded and wearing big grin. He didn't remember where Nightwing had been, but he was glad to see him again. The Batman was back, and he wasn't alone.

The Batman of Zur-en-Arrh was soon investigating the sale of drugs in Crime Alley. A lead sent him to a small tailor shop at the end of the alley. Interrogating the thugs inside, he found a sizable cache of drugs ready for sale, attractively packaged to appeal to children. He easily persuaded the dealers to talk and discovered that the organizer was a criminal called Le Bossu. "The hunchback," Batman muttered to himself. "A strange name…" He was perched high on Gotham Cathedral among the stone gargoyles , vaguely remembering that this was a favorite thinking spot of his. While he looked down over the city he heard one gargoyle say to the other, "Will you look at that down there! See, now, that's the kind of thing that gives gargoyles a bad name."

Batman frowned. "Nightwing? Am I nuts or did these gargoyles just talk?"

Nightwing smiled. "Oh you're totally sane! But never mind the gargoyles, the bad guys are on to you. We can't stay here, Batman."

The second gargoyle said, "So don't listen. We've only been watching over the city for 80 years. What do we know about anything?"

"What do you know?" Batman asked.

Nightwing gave him an impatient look. "They know we're here! They know we're on the roof! Now would be a really good time to find the most recent scar on your body and deal with the tracking device. Let's just hope they didn't hide it in one of your teeth!" he said urgently and pointed.

Batman followed Nightwing's gesture and saw a group of thugs dressed as gargoyles. "Huh," Batman murmured as Nightwing took a closer look at Batman's teeth and said, in frustration, "They did hide it in your teeth! Hurry!"

Looking down, Batman could see the men standing over a GPS device; some kind of tracker. And it was aimed at him. In his new utility belt was a penknife he had scavenged. He quickly found the newest filling in his mouth and removed the entire tooth, throwing it as far away from him as he could. Mouth bleeding from the lost tooth, Batman had the sudden sense that he was needed. He turned and found Nightwing staring off into the distance, in the direction of the Manor.

"What is it, chum? Trouble at the Manor?"

"Yeah," Nightwing said with eyes narrowed. "You'd better get over there. Fast."

* * *

Jason woke with a pounding headache. He didn't recall getting drunk last night, so this was one hell of a hangover. The light was pretty bright too. He reached for his pillow to cover his face and found that he could not move his wrist. Uh-oh… Not a good sign.. He slowly pried one eyelid open and found himself in the Batcave. That wasn't bad, except that he was in a straitjacket, strapped down to a medical table and surrounded by the weirdest looking people he'd ever seen. And as Batman's sidekick he'd seen a lot of weird.

A short, fat, ugly little man with a snub nose approached the table. Pulling off his coke bottle glasses, the little man wiped them with the corner of his lab coat. "Good morning," he said. "As I understand it, you used to be Robin. The second one, weren't you? Please understand that my original plan originally involved your predecessor, the former Nightwing who alas died in the recent crisis."

Jason bit back a snarl. "What is this? You'd rather torture and kill golden boy Dick Grayson instead of me? That is the weirdest compliment I've ever had. If you don't want me, just untie me and I'll go."

The ugly little man smiled. "It isn't that easy I'm afraid. The Black Glove has demanded the complete destruction of Bruce Wayne, by destroying all those he loves. Therefore, since the preferred target is no longer living, you move into his place. And besides, I have a bone to pick with you myself. Am I to understand that you are responsible for the death of the Joker?"

"And what if I am?" Jason demanded defiantly, trying frantically to find slack in the straitjacket.

"You have your mentor in Batman. My own particular hero has always been the Joker. Alas I was never able to meet him and learn from him. Therefore I will have to improvise without his inspiration." The little man moved some medical instruments to a side table next to the medical bed. He picked up a sharp chisel, pointed like an ice pick, and a small mallet. "You have heard, I think, of an ice pick lobotomy?"

"Oh lucky me…" Jason muttered, looking around for an escape.

"You may address me as either Dr. Dax, or my nom de guerre, Le Bossu, 'hunchback' . Unfortunately I am left with these meager surroundings in which to perform my operation, which is to render you into a drooling idiot before Batman's eyes." Le Bossu began to fastidiously arrange the medical instruments on the tray. "You see, originally, the Joker was to make Arkham Asylum available for my work. It is such a comfort to work in a modern environment, don't you think?" Le Bossu smiled. "Now, if we were at Arkham, I could offer you a general anesthetic. But since we are in more primitive surroundings, of necessity you must be awake for the proceedings."

Jason struggled against the straitjacket as the ice pick drew closer and closer to his left eye. Since becoming Robin, he had faced a variety of dangers and had been frightened many times. But as Robin, he had always had faith that Batman would arrive in the nick of time to rescue him. That belief had been blasted into smithereens during his last encounter with the Joker when he had been beaten half to death, then blown up to finish the job. He now had no faith at all that anyone, God or Batman, would intervene in his life. He began to struggle harder, fighting the straps. While he fought, he saw that the thugs were watching his every move with enjoyment, their eyes wide, licking their lips in anticipation. He was suddenly sorry that he had not bothered to install the standard emergency beacon in his uniform. He had mocked Batman's caution and teased Dick about Batman's overprotective procedures. He began to wonder if maybe he had been a little arrogant about the whole thing.

In the corner of the cave he saw a bent and bloodied figure creeping toward the table. With a feeling of shock, he recognized Alfred, who had clearly been beaten severely. In the old man's trembling hand, Alfred clutched a single sharpened batarang.


	14. Batman of ZurrenArrh

Chapter 14

GOTHAM CITY

Batman moved swiftly, maintaining a conversation with his mysterious guide. "Did… Did something happen to my mind, old chum? It seems so much… faster now. Clearer. Simpler. Like a streamlined engine, a silver bullet…"

"Blame Zur-en-Arrh," Nightwing replied. "All this stuff came out during the trauma of the space isolation experiment you took part in for the Army, remember? It's when Doc Hurt got the idea to use Zur-en-Arrh as a hypnotic trigger phrase that would give him the power to switch off Batman anytime he wanted. But it doesn't pay to underestimate Batman, does it?"

"What do you mean?" Batman asked, puzzled.

"Batman thinks of everything," Nightwing said. "Batman even prepares for psychological attack with a backup identity, remember? He made a secret self to save him. The Batman of Zur-en-Arrh." Nightwing paused and gave Batman pitying look. "I bet you don't even remember Bruce Wayne."

"Who's Bruce Wayne?" asked Batman.

"You are Batman without Bruce Wayne," Nightwing said gently. "You are deduction and action without emotion. Hey, don't blame me. It was your choice."

* * *

LIMBO

Nightwing paced his way around the column, noting that he had begun to wear a furrow in the seemingly indestructible green grass. The angel, Tathenniel, had patiently watched him all but jogging for the past hour.

Finally Tathenniel sighed and stepped into his path. "I have told you before that you don't have to witness this. Put briefly, you have earned the joys of heaven already, and I see no reason to put you through this agony now. Your timeline is still looking hopeful, as Batman is one of the most resilient people I have ever seen. In the interests of thoroughness, I will watch the timeline to its conclusion, but there is no need for you to do so. You are simply held here in Limbo until my job is done. "

Nightwing, halted by Tathenniel, had come to a stop some six inches from the angel's nose. He noted that the angel looked almost frustrated. Could angels get angry? If this angel were to smite him with a fiery sword, it would hardly kill him, would it? Nightwing played briefly with the idea but decided not to provoke Tathenniel, since he didn't know where he would end up. Donning his most charming smile, he set out to negotiate. "Now look, Tathenniel. Batman is already seeing me, even though I'm not there. Why can't you simply zap me in and let me help? If I remember the catechism classes my mom made me go to, divine intervention is something that angels do regularly, isn't it? Nobody's, gonna know that it's really me since only Batman can see me, and he's nuts." With a broad ingratiating smile, Nightwing flashed Tathenniel his most persuasive look, the one that had convinced Batman to let him eat Alfred's chocolate chip cookies on a regular basis, even though they were unhealthy.

Tathenniel wavered. In all his millennia he had never met such an irritating, persistent, and persuasive human. What made it all worse was the very level of importance assigned to this job by the Boss. He wouldn't be an angel if he didn't feel sympathetic. Then, to his horror, the young hero dropped to his knees and his face took on a look of intensity. "You know that I'm serious about this. Those people are my family," Nightwing pointed to the column. "They're the ones I love and I would die for any of them. If you have to punish me for this later, feel free, but I can't just sit here and let this happen. You have to let me help them. Please. . ."

Tathenniel leaned down grasped Dick by the arms, and pulled him to his feet. "My son, it isn't a question of what I want. I have told you already that the purpose for this exercise is to determine the flow of fate in your absence. In a very real sense, what you see is not real. It hasn't happened, yet."

"But it is what will happen if I stay dead," Dick said bitterly. "If this is what will happen, then I just won't _stay_ dead. I'll haunt or something. I'll become the biggest pain in your neck since man was driven out of the Garden of Eden."

The Angel stood with his arms folded over his chest, "And you could do it, too…" he muttered. "No. I am sorry, but if I let you go and you change the timeline, this will all have been wasted. There is more at stake here than your anguish. Disturb me again and I will be forced to remove you."

Dick gave Tathenniel a long, sad look which hid the determination in his eyes.

* * *

GOTHAM CITY

In the meantime, Tim was scouting through Gotham. He knew that the Knight and Squire wouldn't arrive for several hours, and he needed to gather information and avoid capture if he was to be any use at all.

He frowned, seeing the oddly-dressed henchmen of the Black Glove below him. One was a tall man dressed in armor that must have been designed in the Dark Ages. He wore a helmet of gray metal shaped like a bucket over a tan leather coat. The second henchman was even weirder, dressed like a French mime—a pierrot—complete with white face makeup. Tim shook his head. Ever since Nightwing had died, things in Gotham had been getting weirder and weirder. Uh-oh, he'd been seen. With a fierce grin on his face, Tim set out to lead them a long, merry chase.

An hour later, Tim was sure he had lost them. He didn't know these criminals' capabilities yet, but had decided that the smart thing would be not to engage until he had backup. He sighed. It was taking Knight and Squire a long time to get here. He was perched in the tree near the entrance to the Batcave, when he saw movement below. "Batman?" he murmured. He raised magnification on his lenses and looked again.

He dropped to the road below and saw a tall man wearing a ragged bat uniform approaching. But the uniform was in the wrong colors: red and purple, yet the man wore a black bat emblem on his chest. Tim thought he saw a glowing figure just behind Batman shoulder, but when he blinked, it disappeared. He moved into the center of the road where the man couldn't possibly missed him. The costumed man came to a halt in front of Tim.

"Robin? Is that you?" the oddly-dressed man asked.

"Bruce? Is that really you? What happened? Where is your uniform?" Tim demanded anxiously, pulling off his mask.

"Who's Bruce ? I am the Batman of Zur-en-Arrh," his mentor stated confidently.

Tim's worried look deepened. "Okay… Were you drugged? Where have you been… Batman?"

"With Nightwing's help, I have been looking for the Black Glove." Batman pulled his own cowl off and Tim was relieved to see that it really was Bruce, albeit unshaven, battered and with bloodshot eyes.

"I see," Tim replied neutrally. "And what has Nightwing been telling you? Where is Nightwing, anyway?"

"He's standing right next to me, of course." Batman gestured to his left. "Nightwing says that the Black Glove has taken over the Batcave. Alfred may be in danger. With regard to drugs, yes, they shot me full of heroin last night but it's pretty much worn off."

"Now, don't be offended, Batman," Tim said hesitantly. "But you haven't been trying any more of those isolation tank experiments, have you? I… uh… read about them in your black casebook."

"No, no more experiments." Batman replaced his cowl and began striding forward in the direction of the Batcave's secret entrance. "It's time to take down the Black Glove, once and for all."

Tim looked hesitantly from Batman to the road behind him. Knight and Squire should be here soon, along with any reinforcements they had managed pick up along the way. But if he let Batman go in alone, especially in the state of mind, he virtually guaranteed his death. He remembered what Dick had often said about being Robin: "He needs help, and it might as well be me." Tim sighed and remembered his own rationale for taking on the role of Robin— Batman needs a Robin—and followed.

* * *

BATCAVE

Jason fought as the ice pick moved forward toward his eye socket, and did his best to knock instrument out of Le Bossu's pudgy hands. In response, he felt the hard hands of the watching gang struggling to hold him down flat on the table. Finally, Alfred was in position, unseen by the thugs. He came up behind the mad surgeon and brought the sharpened end of the batarang down hard on the back of Le Bossu's neck, burying the batarang deep in the man's spine.

Knowing Batman's attitude about killing, Jason was shocked that the quiet and gentle butler had it in him to take a life. But Jason could see that Alfred was on the final reserves of his strength and, after he struck, the thugs attacked him and beat him to the floor.

Meanwhile, the ice pick had dropped near Jason's mouth as the surgeon staggered away from the table and fell, bleeding profusely. Jason grabbed the handle of the ice pick in his mouth and began working at severing his bonds. He soon got himself unstrapped and off the table. His hands were still caught in the straitjacket, but he had the use of both his feet and his teeth.

He noticed that the equipment vault was standing open and ran for it. He was inside before the thugs noticed, slamming the door shut with his back. Leaning against the rack of batarangs, he used their edges to saw through the straitjacket, then loaded up on Batman's, admittedly nonlethal, weaponry. Feeling more confident, he moved to the computer terminal in the corner. Batman, obsessed with security as he was, had spread communications links throughout the Batcave. He opened the channel and tried to contact Batman, not holding out much hope of reaching him. As he suspected there was no response. Then he tried Tim and was overjoyed to get an answer.

"Tim! Bro! You're still alive!" Jason shouted with glee. Then he realized what he'd just said and toned down his expression. "I mean, you haven't managed to get yourself killed yet… Where are you?"

"On our way into the Batcave," Tim replied. "Batman is with me."

"Watch out! I'm in the Cave and the place is full of nuts. Some gang has taken over. They have strange names and even stranger costumes, but they are very clear on one thing: they're here to destroy Batman. Enter with extreme caution. Do you have back up?"

"How many hostiles do you have?" Tim asked urgently.

"I'd estimate 20 or more," said Jason. "I'm barricaded in the equipment vault, hoping they'll forget about me." Jason considered whether he should tell Tim about Alfred and decided not to. Against numbers so overwhelming, he didn't dare go out there to try to save the butler, and the last thing he wanted was to be second-guessed about it. He felt vaguely guilty and he had a feeling that Batman would be making a different decision, were he in Jason's shoes. "Hell," he muttered aloud. "That's why he's Batman!"

"I'm sorry Jason, I didn't catch that. What did you say?" Tim asked.

"I said that the hostiles are armed with guns and other weaponry. I'd advise recon before attacking. The old mineshaft will let you into the Cave behind the area where they're grouped. Let me know your plan," Jason said.


	15. Jason's Decision

Authors note: copious thanks to my betas, Ellen and PJ!

CHAPTER 15

LIMBO

"Jason! What have you done?" Dick shouted at the pillar. "How could you just leave him there? Dammit, didn't Bruce teach you anything?"

"He shows a strong sense of self-preservation," Tathenniel commented.

"And a deficient sense of heroism," Dick said bitterly. "Jason… You're better than this…" Unable to take his eyes from the column, Dick sank to his knees. "Alfred raised me… Or at least he helped Bruce raise me. Whenever I got hurt, Alfred was always the one who took care of it. You'd be surprised how effective a pain reliever hot cocoa can be."

"Clearly, a very good man," Tathenniel said sympathetically.

"He's not just a good man, he's family! I… I can't see him. Is he still alive? Damn you Jay, go after him! There's nothing more important than that...Nothing more important..." Nightwing kept repeating in an unsteady voice.

* * *

GOTHAM

"What happened to Alfred?" Tim asked anxiously. "You didn't just leave him there, did you?"

Jason scowled. It wasn't cowardly of him to have taken advantage of Alfred's attack to save himself. It wasn't! But the fact remained that he had run for cover as fast as he could. Trust that damned Drake to focus on that point. "Unfriendlies approaching! Gotta sign off!" Jason yelled and closed his communicator. He sat back against the wall and mentally kicked himself. Why hadn't he jumped in and rescued Alfred? Hell, for years, Alfred had been the one who had sent him Christmas cards and care packages. Alfred was worth two of Jason Todd. Well, he was armed now. Maybe he could do something. He only hoped it wasn't too late.

Silently, Jason pulled open the vault door. To his relief, nobody had noticed him yet. Most of the thugs were making their way upstairs. He could see them mounting the stairwell. Four remained behind, clearly on the hunt for him. The crazy surgeon remained crumpled in a corner. Of Alfred, he could see nothing. Jason grinned. He'd grown up in this cave and knew it like the back of his hand.

He popped up from behind cover and deliberately let himself be seen. "So, you want to catch me? You're gonna have to work for it!" With that, he set off in a run toward the maze of side caves that permeated the ground on which Wayne Manor stood. As he ran, he lifted his communicator to his mouth. "Robin, the Batcave should be empty. I've drawn off the last four into the labyrinth. I think most everyone else has gone upstairs; why, I don't know. Still no sign of Alfred. Red Hood out." Grimly, he put on more speed. There were a few traps he was looking forward to springing on these fruitcakes.

Outside, Tim was still uneasy. Not only was he worried about Alfred's well-being, but he was having doubts about Jason.

Batman finished opening the gate and, not knowing what else to do, Tim followed. Since becoming Robin, he had always trusted Batman implicitly, even when Batman's decisions didn't seem to make sense. But he had always believed that Batman was more or less sane. Now? He wasn't so sure.

And Jason… Jay had run out on Alfred! Not that he hadn't always suspected that Jason had a couple of screws loose.…

Tim carefully picked his way through the cave, following Batman closely. The route Batman had chosen was new to Tim, but it was common knowledge in the family that Bruce knew more about the tunnels than anybody. He just hoped that this version of Batman still remembered the map, even if he didn't remember who Bruce Wayne was…

Jason finished clubbing the last of the four goons, gagged him and secured his hands behind his back. At last, he could get some real work done, and the first thing on the list was to find Alfred. As the minutes had gone by, Jason had been feeling more and more guilty as memories surfaced of all the kindnesses Alfred had done him over the years. He knew that he had been a coward to make his own escape rather than rescuing a friend. He also knew that he had been working alone for so long, shunning the company of others, that he had pretty much forgotten how to work with a team.

Panting hard, he came back into the Batcave and looked around. He saw the crumpled body of the crazy doctor lying next to the overturned medical table. Looking closely, he saw an extra pair feet poking out from underneath it. "Alfred!" he muttered and ran over.

He skidded to a stop next to the medical table and gently pulled it off the old butler. He could see the man's chest rising and falling, so at least he wasn't dead yet. But, from the blood on the old man's face and the battered appearance of the man's face and body, it was clear that he needed a hospital, and quickly. As Jason began taking vitals, Alfred opened his eyes. "So, Lad, you got away from them," he wheezed.

"Yeah, Alfred, I'm sorry about that," Jason said, noting that the old man's pulse was thready and there seemed to be broken ribs. "I should've jumped in to rescue you. I saved myself instead… I… am so sorry…" Jason heard his voice break and swallowed hard.

"And you would have wasted my sacrifice, my boy," Alfred's voice came thinly in Jason's ear. "There was no way you could have prevailed over so many attackers."

"But I should've _tried_! Instead, I ran and locked myself in the vault. And now, you… You don't look so good," Jason said.

Alfred smiled. "My dear boy, I appreciate your honesty and I say again that I had no expectation of being rescued. Now, based on the difficulty I'm having in drawing breath, I suspect that I have multiple broken ribs, one of which has pierced a lung." He coughed and spat blood. "I doubt that I have much longer to live, under the circumstances."

Jason scrabbled for the blanket on the medical table and wrapped it around the old butler. "Not if I have anything to say about it," he said looking around the Batcave. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you to the Batwing. I can land you at the nearest hospital. Ready?"

"All right, my boy," Alfred replied. And shortly, Jason had lifted the old man into his arms. As he moved swiftly toward the batwing, he heard a shout from behind.

"Jason! Drop him! Where are you taking Alfred?" Tim's outraged voice rang through the Batcave. "Haven't you done enough?"

"What's wrong with Alfred?" Batman's voice growled. "What happened?"

"I can answer that," Tim replied. "Jason called me from where he had barricaded himself in the equipment vault. He cut me off when I asked what happened to Alfred." He ran over to Jason and laid a hesitant hand on the old man's chest. "He's still alive." His blue eyes were like laser beams boring into Jason's. "Do you want to tell us what happened?"

"The lad was threatened ," Alfred choked. " by thugs and a very nasty doctor ... I rushed the doctor … stabbed him with...batarang… As I intended, the... lad... escaped. Had he done... otherwise… I should have been upset with him."

Tim continued to glare at Jason. Batman, seeing his old friend's injuries, jerked his head, startled. He was silent for a moment or two.

"Jason, you were doing the right thing. Get him to the hospital as fast as you can. Robin and I will take care of our guests." With new confidence, Batman strode toward the costume vault. "As soon as I'm properly dressed as the Batman of Gotham City."

A mix of relief and guilt crossing Jason's face, he shifted his hold on Alfred and ran for the Batwing.

"Alfred's covering for him," Tim said bitterly. "I'm betting Jason ran for his life and forgot all about Alfred!"

"Robin, sometimes people make mistakes that show ugly parts of their character. That doesn't mean that they can't change if they're given a chance. Jason's had a tougher road than you have. Now, let's take back our house."

Batman went with Tim up the staircase to the Manor. He now remembered his entire past, not just the Batman of Zur-en-Arrh. He sighed little bit. It had been wonderful to partner with Nightwing again. Now that he understood clearly that Nightwing had been a figment of his imagination, the grief threatened to close him down again. It was a grief he didn't have time for, especially since his mind felt like a furnished room that had been rearranged. Everything in his mind was still there, but felt vaguely alien. He had to stand firm against the Black Glove, if only to save Jason and Tim from them, not to mention Gotham city.

At the top of the stairs he carefully eased open the clock and found the study empty. Moving to the door, he and Tim heard the sound of… a cocktail party? He moved over to the desk, gesturing for Tim to follow, and opened the cabinet that gave access to the security system. It looked like the gang hadn't broken the code. Activating it, both vigilantes watched the screens scroll through until Batman stopped at the view of the ballroom.

"I don't believe this," Robin commented. "They're throwing a party in our ballroom and even decorated it!" Tim pointed to the massive bouquets of flowers clustered throughout the room. "Are those roses?"

"Red and black roses," Batman said. "You see the net at the ceiling? It has more rose petals in it. It reminds me of a trick Joker pulled a few years ago, before your time. By themselves neither the red nor the black rose petals are toxic, but when you combine the two they create a nerve poison that affects anyone they touch. The last time we saw these, Dick was laid up for two weeks." Batman's voice trailed off as he recalled Dick.

"But why would they poison themselves?" Tim broke in, anxious to drop Batman away from that dangerous topic, especially in his mental state.

"I suspect that they decorated for us," Batman said thoughtfully. "I've had a sense that I was being hunted for some time. I didn't know who or why but began to have suspicions when I met a particularly eager young lady in London, Jezebel Jet. This was shortly after Dick… passed away. I wasn't in the mood for romance and, in any case, something seemed off about her. She was too good to be true; the kind of woman calculated to appeal to me, if someone were studying my preferences. I turned her down flat and returned to Gotham. In fact, I think I see her in the corner of the ballroom." Batman stabbed his finger down on the corner of the screen.

Tim saw a tall, willowy woman with copper skin and her hair in braids. Dressed in Dior, her green eyes sparkled while she flirted and laughed. "Haven't I seen her somewhere before?"

"She's a supermodel who has appeared in Vogue and inherited a country when her father was murdered. She is intelligent, charming, beautiful and powerful." Batman sighed wistfully. "A far cry from Bruce Wayne's usual choices of female companionship."

"Who is that she's standing next to?" Tim gestured to a man dressed in an antiquated bat-suit. To his surprise, Batman had stiffened with rage. "Batman? What's wrong?"

"That is the Batman outfit my father once wore to a fancy dress ball with my mother. When I first decided to become Batman, I looked at his costume carefully when designing my uniform. That he dares to wear it here and now... That, Robin, is the leader of the Black Glove."

During this conversation, Robin had been idly watching as the security screens flipped by. "Hey, wait a minute. Batman, back up one screen... I think the reinforcements have arrived," Robin said in triumph, pointing to a cluster of costumed heroes making their way toward the house. "I'll call them."

"Not safe, Robin. They've had control of the Cave for over twenty four hours and may have tapped into our radio system. Go out and bring them back to me," Batman said.

"Where will you be?" Robin asked.

Batman smile was grimace. "When this Manor was disassembled in England and brought to Gotham in the 18th century, the original mansion had a minstrels' gallery. It hasn't been used in years; Dad had the door locked up after he caught me exploring up there. I'll be watching from up there."

With that, Batman nodded to Robin, then made his way to the minstrels gallery. He unlocked the door then made his way up several flights of stairs to the gallery. Sitting near the crest of the glass dome that topped the Wayne ballroom, the gallery consisted of a tiered set of risers behind a sturdy railing. Looking down through the banisters Batman was able to see the entire ballroom in a glance.

The room was full of people, clearly guests were still arriving. He noted that the 25 or so guests wore evening attire; many of them he recognized from Gotham society and spotted several members of international society. All were very wealthy. A small string quartet had set up in a corner. Looking above him he could see the net strung over the ballroom containing the black and red rose petals.

The door at the end of the ballroom opened and what Batman saw then both shocked and infuriated him. Six thugs entered the ballroom, carrying a black coffin at shoulder height. Batman activated his distance lenses and read the metal plate on it: 'Richard John Grayson'. He felt his rage begin to rise.

The man in his father's costume strode over to the coffin and patted it smugly. "Good work, my friends. I had hoped to have a hostage to draw our guest of honor here, but alas, Mr. Wayne did not fall for our Jezebel's charms. So instead we will make do with something...or someone...closer at hand." The man walked over to a computer set up in the corner and pressed a few buttons. "Batman, you should be hearing and seeing this since I'm tied into your line. I have someone you value as my hostage and while it's too late for me to kill him, I'm sure that we can think of something to do with him that you would find very distressing. Be in this room in ten minutes if you want your son's body back, undespoiled."

The old grief came back in full force as the coffin was set in the center of the ballroom, garlanded with red and black roses. He reminded himself that Dick was gone and wouldn't care about what happened to his body; but he knew that it was no good. He couldn't allow this desecration. He shot a grappling hook to the opposite wall and promptly swung down into the ballroom's center, landing next to the coffin.

"What is this all about? And who the hell are you?" Batman demanded in a loud voice.

"We are the Black Glove. And as for me, I would think you would recognize this face." The man in the antique bat suit took off his mask and leered. "Don't you recognize your own father, Thomas Wayne?"

"I saw my father die in a hail of bullets," Batman gritted. "Now why don't you tell me what it is you want and why you've targeted me and my family." Batman began slowly moving towards ' Thomas Wayne', gently running his hand along the coffin as he inched closer.


	16. The Black Glove Prevails

CHAPTER 16

Outside Wayne Manor, Robin had ran into a couple of familiar thugs. First the mime. The mine was irritating. He made no sound and fluidly ducked and backed and limboed away from Tim's hardest blows. All without a sound. Finally, the mime had Tim in a headlock when he heard another voice with a strong Australian accent. "Well now, Junior. You let us a married bloody dance these last couple of days, ey?"

The speaker, the guy in the tan overcoat with the bucket shaped helmet pulled a gun and advanced on the choking Robin. "God ya cornered like a rat now!" Moving in close, Buckethead snarled, "Strangle the little brat, Pierrot!"

Tim was on his last breath, the black spots swimming before his eyes when suddenly the mime was gone, struggling for air through the brightly colored bolo that encircled his neck. "Well, if it ain't the jolly swag man. Long way from home, mate!"

"Dark Ranger? You're dead!" Bucket had exclaimed, bringing his pistol up to aim.

"Dream on. Dark Ranger. Formerly the Scout." The dark Ranger lifted his own gun and fired, just as Tim took out the mime.

"Sorry, it took us a few hours to get the whole team rounded up and all the way to America. Looks like we time that one just right," The Knight reached down a hand to help Robin up, while the Squire grinned broadly and shouted "Hells bells.' Ow are ya, Boy Wonder?"

Robin looked around to see the team of seven heroes that comprised the Heroes Club. He bounded to his feet grinning. "Am I glad to see you! The Batcave has been invaded by some strange gang and Batman needs our help." Gesturing with his arm, Tim urged him forward. "I'll show you the secret entrance to the Batcave".

* * *

WAYNE MANOR BALLROM

"I know who you are and you aren't Thomas Wayne," Batman growled as he edged forward. Doctor Simon Hurt… I remember you now. You were the psychiatrist who conducted those isolation experiments for the Army. The ones where I was projected into…"

"Zur-en-Arrh, right Batman?" Hurt said, his face alight with glee. "I see that the trigger phrase doesn't affect you now."

"No, I've had too stiff a dose of reality," Batman replied and gently patted Dick's coffin next to him. "Just what is it you want?"

"Contrary to what you probably expect," Dr. Hurt replied. "I don't want to kill you. I only want to pull apart your soul like a child pulls the wings off a fly, just to watch it squirm. " Hurt went on." To that end, I will destroy every person you have ever cared for. And you will watch, unable to help them. Had your fool butler not killed Le Bossu, your oldest surviving son would be a dribbling idiot, forever a placid defective without hope of cure." Hurt walked over to Batman until he stood before the head of the coffin. "You know," he said conversationally, "I had originally planned that fate for the son you loved the most, but he died. Even so, he hasn't escaped our reach." He gently laid a hand on the lid, stroking the metal.

Batman lunged forward, putting himself between Hurt and the coffin. Hurt's eyes gleamed as he said, "**We** stemmed the tide of crime in Gotham city, undermining your reason to exist. **We** daubed the walls with the trigger phrase you had been primed not see until it was too late. **We** split your mind, drugged you and left you deranged, poisoned and homeless on Gotham's streets." Hurt licked his lips and continued. "Much time and preparation have gone into this year's celebration of the Black Glove. Our group is very secretive and consists of the very wealthy and powerful. Not even the wealth and power of a Bruce Wayne can overcome us. We take what we want."

From behind Hurt, the tall figure of Jezebel Jet approached. She held a glass of champagne in her slender, ring-covered hand. "Bruce, it could have been glorious while it lasted. You shouldn't have rejected me and what I offered. But I am glad that you accepted our invitation to the party. Every year, our celebration culminates in...a game." She gave him a long, erotic look and he noted, in startlement, that her nipples were erect against the thin material of her dress. "This year, we are invited to bet on the outcome of the ultimate competition: Good versus Evil. You represent the power of Good. The question is whether you will survive Evil's efforts to destroy you...Utterly."

"I've survived your kind before," Batman spat out.

"You've never been all alone before," Jezebel took a long sip of her champagne. "While we have you occupied here, your 'Robin' is fighting for his life outside, as are your allies from the 'Club of Heroes'" Her perfect lip rose in a sneer. A single red rose petal drifted down from the ceiling to land in her champagne flute, followed by more. Petals, red and black began to sift down to the room's occupants.

"Oh, don't worry about the nerve toxin," Dr. Hurt said. "We're all immunized. You aren't. Get ready for another trip down the rabbit hole, Batman. Where will you wake up next? If you wake up..."

Batman felt the sting as first a red petal, then a black landed on his cheek. Most of his body was armored with kevlar and padding, leaving his face the only skin exposed. He hoped that would minimize his dose of the deadly flowers.

"He's in the grip of the Black Glove now," shouted Hurt. "That's right, Bruce! You're failing! And all my guests who bet on you surviving are going to be very disappointed, too!"

His hope began to fade as the image of Jezebel, still holding the champagne flute, began to run and flicker. He staggered back, trying to find some shelter from the flower petals.

"Look. Look at his eyes. Now he knows! Batman's finally giving in!" He heard Jezebel's triumphant voice as she leaned over him. "Now do you get it?"

The guests moved in on him, joking and laughing at his distress until he fell and the darkness closed in.

* * *

LIMBO

Dick Grayson watched the column with silent intensity. He'd been forbidden from interfering on pain of unspecified punishment, but that had never stopped him before.

While he watched, an unconscious Batman was hauled away from the ballroom by four goons and trailed by Dr. Hurt, Jezebel Jet and the rest of their party guests. In another room, Batman was laid into an old-fashioned wooden coffin. Then the goons, like grotesque pall-bearers, lifted the coffin, leading the procession out into the rain. Dick recognized the Wayne family cemetery as they went through the iron gates.

As the rain poured down, they all stopped next to a hole dug beside Dick's own grave. They had put a wooden cross with the metal outline of a bat at the head of the freshly dug grave.

"Batman! Laid to rest! Buried alive in his best cape! And all for the entertainment of my honored guests," Dr. Hurt said triumphantly.

The Cardinal, standing next to him, sniffed. "A somewhat shallow bed, Doctor Hurt."

"Enough to confine even the strongest man." Hurt replied jovially. "But not so deep we can't exhume what remains after dessert."

"I'm still betting on Batman. The poison is only stunned him! That means, like the rest of us, he was prepared," the Sheik said.

"Thank God for that or our evening which is been at the waste, Al-Khidr," the Cardinal commented. "We were promised the annihilation of proud spirit and I'd like to hope our dear Dr. Hurt is not quite finished yet."

"Bravo, Cardinal Maggi. Area inside the coffin will run out in exactly 30 min. His brain will begin to die seconds after that. Whereupon he will be raised up like a drooling Lazarus… Permanently brain-damaged!" Dr. Hurt said with satisfaction.

"The way I like them," said Jezebel Jet with the deep smile, looking coquettishly over her shoulder at Dr. Hurt. "We can even disfigure him to look like his worst enemy… The Joker, perhaps?"

An eternity later, Batman woke in a dark, enclosed space. He opened his eyes and saw nothing. His hands were unbound, but when he moved his arms to the sides, they touched soft padding of...satin? Beginning to be afraid, he reached up overhead, and found more satin padding. Then he noticed how stuffy the air seemed, with a faint smell of dirt. Blindly, he traced the limits of the box that held him and the realization dawned suddenly that he was in a sealed coffin.

He had been buried alive.

Dick Grayson sat on the velvet green grass and watched his mentor fight against blinding panic. Without looking he knew that the Angel, Tathenniel, stood several feet behind him. He slowly climbed to his feet, stretching his legs gently. Suddenly, he didn't care what heavenly or infernal punishment awaited him for breaking these rules. His love and loyalty to Bruce predated any of this. With a big grin on his face, he gave a loud whoop and jumped into the column.

[Author's note: this chapter has not been baited. I have been able to type much of it – – hooray! – – So any errors are purely mine and Dragon's.]


	17. Alfred

CHAPTER 17

Dick's descent felt like a long ride on a water slide. Normally, he'd enjoy the sensation, but he'd begun to wonder what Tathenniel had planned for him as reward. He felt his speed pick up and then suddenly it came to a stop, landing abruptly on top of the fresh pile of dirt that covered Batman's new grave. He looked around, hands in fists, longing for someone to pound. The cemetery was, however, empty. He heard the loud sounds of festivity coming from the house and was briefly grateful that it was a long walk to the mansion. He knelt down and began trying to dig Batman out, but his hands sank into the mud without a trace. Oh yeah, that's right, I'm a ghost he reminded himself.

He sat back on his haunches trying to figure out what he could do, even if in spirit form. Wondering whether Batman would be able to see him, he leaned forward and lowered himself down to the coffin. He poked his head through the coffin lid and looked down at Batman. To his relief, that man's eyes focused immediately on his face.

"Don't worry, Bruce. You're not dead yet," Dick said cheerfully. "If you can see me, it just means that they gave you some really good drugs."

"Then you are some kind of hallucination, aren't you? Just like before," Batman muttered breathlessly and reached his hands back up to the frame of the coffin, desperately trying to push the lid up.

"Bruce, it's me, Dick. I want to help but I can't dig you out, and there are 4 feet of mud immediately above this coffin. If it were dry, you might be able to bench press it off, but the water adds to the weight. Where's Tim?" Dick asked urgently.

Bruce gritted his teeth and pushed against the coffin lid with all of his strength. "I...(pant)... sent him to...bring reinforcements...he's been gone...a long time..." Batman relaxed back against the padding, his arms falling to his sides. "Air's getting thin...can't get the lid off..." Bruce's gaze met Dick's blue eyes. "I… may be… joining you shortly unless I can get… the lid off." His eyes visibly closed. "Miss you… so much. World seems darker somehow." His lips puffed in a silent chuckle. "Never could say it before...how important you are to me..how proud I am...be your father..or one of them, anyway... Got...stuck...in the words..."

"Well don't start writing your will yet," Dick said in his nastiest tone, the one guaranteed to make Bruce mad. "We need Tim. Where did you send him? Or Jason. Is he back from the hospital yet?"

Batman shook his head feebly. "They took… utility belt and all th' gadgets. Hurt did his homework." Batman raised his arm and tried to move the coffin lid again. Beneath his left arm, Dick saw a rectangular plastic box that looked vaguely familiar. An old transistor radio?

"Bruce, what's that under your left arm?" Dick asked.

"That's the…bat-radia...Given to me by...friend..." Bruce coughed.

Dick's face broke into a grin. He recognized that radio. "Batman, I need you to pick up that radio and open the back. I don't know where it's been all these years, but do you remember that summer I got a job as a lifeguard? You insisted that I couldn't go unless I had emergency communication direct to you available. Since everything we had would short out in salt water, and it couldn't be hidden in my swimsuit anyway, you made me drag that thing with me everywhere I went. Remember? "

Batman scrabbled for the broken transistor radio, pulling it out and resting on his chest. "Don't know if…still works..." He pried open the back of the radio and fumbled with the insides. "Button...gotta press button...here!"

They both heard a click when the button was pressed and the back of the radio lit up. "When I assembled that thing I remember that I put a tracker in along with the emergency button," Dick said. "Anyone on our emergency frequency should get the call." Dick looked around the walls of the coffin. The weight of the mud overhead was making the lid sag in. "In the meantime, I'll look for possible ways out. You sit tight, Bruce. I'm gonna get you out of here. Bruce?" Dick realized that Bruce had passed out. He reached his hand out, trying to put a hand on his father's shoulder, but it passed right through. He gulped and said in a shaky voice, "Bruce, you've gotta hold on; do some of that breathing you learned in Tibet. Tim and the troops are on their way."

Dick debated whether or not to go physically find Tim himself, but decided to stay with Bruce. Tim wouldn't be able to see him anyway and at least could comfort Bruce if he woke up again. He was beginning to regret his decision when he heard the sounds of digging overhead. He popped himself to the surface and found Robin, Knight and Squire and the rest of the club of heroes busily removing the soil from the top of Bruce's coffin.

"He's down there," Tim was insisting. "This is the emergency signal and the tracker puts him 5 feet down… And, yeah!"

They had reached the top of the coffin and eager hands were already pulling the pieces off. Bruce Wayne, a.k.a. Batman, lay still inside. Robin jumped down and began artificial respiration with an anxious Dick Grayson unseen next to him. Between puffs he shouted to his companions, "He's got a heartbeat, he just needs air!"

Batman began to cough and his eyes fluttered open. "Dick? Where's Dick?… Tim?" He grabbed Tim's arm. "The radio transmitter. You found me."

Tim had looked worried when Bruce asked for Dick. "Yeah, I got an emergency call on your line and tracked you here." Tim glanced at the battered old radio Batman clutched to his chest. "What the hell is that?"

Batman sat up wearing a big grin. "Keep this safe," he handed the radio to Tim. "Someday I'll tell you about the summer that Dick was 15." He stood up and allowed himself to be helped up out of the hole. "For now, we have a job to do."

"Yeah!" Nightwing yelled, raising his fist in triumph. At first, he was surprised that nobody looked at him or joined his fist pump. Then he remembered: oh yeah, he was dead. He followed the troop of heroes up the pathway to the manor, Batman in the lead giving instructions.

From behind Batman, Robin, Knight and Squire and the rest of the club of heroes poured into the ballroom. The thugs guarding the ballroom attacked, but the wealthy guests themselves got in the way. Batman rushed to the front of the ballroom, where Dick Grayson's coffin stood, lid open.

"What have you done?" Batman demanded, rushing up to the coffin, finding it empty. "Where is his body?"

Hurt stood there with an air of satisfaction. "I thought you might find a way to break out, Batman. You're very resourceful. I thought I'd retain my hostage, just in case. Maybe I dumped him on the grounds for the predators. Or maybe I made a deal with Ra's al Ghul to resurrect your favored child...as my obedient servant. You'll never know until your boy's knife finds your throat..."

Batman gave a roar and charged forward, hands outstretched and grasping. Hurt began to back away and was soon running up the stairs with Batman in close pursuit. An invisible Dick Grayson followed at Bruce's heels, suddenly realized where Hurt was heading. "He's going for the helipad, Bruce!" he shouted. "Stop him!"

Batman looked startled, than gave his head a shake and yelled down to Tim, "He's going for the helipad. We can't let him get away!"

Tim nodded and followed while the rest of the Club of heroes took care of the guests and assorted thugs. At the top of the stairs, just as Hurt slammed the door behind him, a call came in on the shared communications line. It was Jason.

"Batman, you have to come to the hospital right now!" Dick had never heard Jason sound that desperate.

"What for?" Tim asked icily.

"He's dying, you idiot! Alfred! You've got to get the Boss here right away!" Jason insisted.

"Jason, are you sure?" Batman asked, stopping in his tracks.

"I'm standing right here next to him. If...if you ever want to see him again, you have to come NOW!" Jason said, voice near hysteria. "Please! You've gotta believe me."

Batman looked up at the rapidly fleeing Hurt and gave a great sigh and clenched his fists. "Later, Hurt. I'll get you later." He turned back. "Tim, I'll get the car and civilian clothing. Have Knight and Squire coordinate cleanup here. If they find...anything...they're to call me immediately."

* * *

Dick found that if he focused on Alfred, he was transported immediately to the hospital. Huh. Maybe being a ghost had its perks. He found the old man in a bed in a hospital room, alone for the moment. Dick sat down in the chair next to the bed. Alfred's face was covered in an oxygen mask and an iv was attached to his arm.

"Hey, Alfie," he said in his cheeriest voice.

Alfred opened the one eye that wasn't swollen shut and regarded his adopted grandson calmly. "So, Master Dick. Have I passed over, then? I think that I hurt too much to be in heaven's arms yet."

"No, not yet, Alfred. I'm just visiting," Dick said with a smile. "But if you do go and find yourself on a green lawn, facing a very angry angel, don't admit you saw me, okay?"

"I would never betray you, my dear boy," Alfred replied. "So, I assume that since I can see you, I am truly dying. A pity. I had such plans for the gardens this year..."

"Bruce is on his way, with Tim," Dick said, looking around. "And where's Jason?"

"I believe that he stepped outside for a cigarette," Alfred pursed his lips. "Alas, we were never able to break him of the habit. I think he blames himself for my injuries ..." The old man began to cough up blood, gasping for air. Dick got up and was about to flag a nurse, somehow, when a nurse rushed into the room, followed by Bruce and Tim.

Bruce sank into the chair, his face crumpling with grief. "Old friend," he said, taking Alfred's hand. "Hold on. I'll have the best doctors in the United States in to treat you..."

"Nonsense," Alfred said, tired from the coughing fit. "I am an old man and my time has come. I won't delay the inevitable...they tell me I am too weak for surgery. Don't ..blame Jason...wouldn't have done any different..."He smiled lovingly at Bruce and Tim, then at Dick, who stood at the foot of the bed. Tim paid no attention, but Bruce noticed with a frown.

It took a full minute before they realized that the old butler had stopped breathing. Bruce's face took on a stiff, icy cast as he struggled with his emotions. Tim just stared, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. Bruce groped blindly for Tim and wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders, pulling him close.

"He's...he's with Dick now...And my parents...and yours. He's in good company, Tim," Bruce choked out.

"What are we going to do without him?" Tim asked softly.

"I don't know. I just don't know..." Bruce replied.

* * *

To his surprise, Dick didn't see Alfred's spirit as it passed from his body. Worried, he began to look for Alfred. "Hey! Alfie! Where are you? Shouldn't we go home together?" Nightwing, unseen by anyone, called for his old friend but found himself caught short, hanging by his collar six feet above the ground.

"You!" a familiar voice, golden strings and cymbals clashing, admonished him. "You have interfered with my sacred task! We may never know the truth thanks to you!"

The world faded away but Dick didn't see green green grass forming around him this time. Instead, he stood on a barren plain covered with volcanic rock and dead trees. The angel released him, tossing him to the ground with a resounding thump. "Do you know what I should do to you for this? I should incinerate you and toss you to the lowest level of Sheol for this!"

Dick picked himself up and saw the angel Tathenniel, grown to twelve feet in height, eyes glowing with rage. Casually wiping the blood from his lip, Dick staggered toward the Being. "Whatever happened to mercy and justice?" He asked. "Isn't that what you stand for?"

"And justice and the Balance," Tathenniel ground out. "You don't know just what it is that you've interfered with, do you? You haven't figured it out? Mister World's Second Best Detective? What do you hear about the New Gods?"

Dick stopped, puzzled. "Why...nothing lately. High level stuff like that is Bruce's area, and the JLA's."

"Behold!" The angel growled and waved his arm. Instantly he and Dick were standing next to a glowing body. Dick's cop instincts were immediately aroused and he bent over to take a closer look. The body was beginning to dissipate, but Dick could clearly see a fresh bullet hole just as a rumpled man who reminded him of Sergeant Bullock arrived.

"That is the body of Orion, a new God and the son of Darkseid. The unprecedented has happened and someone has murdered a god. As might be expected, the Justice League will become involved. They will call upon the best detective in their company: Batman." Tathenniel loomed over the puny human. "Now, what shall I do with you? Troublemaker..."

* * *

Author's note: I encourage reviews...a lot! Especially since I typed most of this all by myself!-the bad arm is coming along. Reviews!


	18. Loss

CHAPTER 18

The room dissolved and they returned to the barren wasteland.

"Can you guess where you are?" the angel asked.

"No," Dick answered. "You've got a good right hook."

Tathenniel smirked. "Smiting evil-doers. And I am serious. Do you recognize this place?"

Dick looked around more closely. He'd been to a few planets with blood-red skies, but this one didn't look familiar. The sterile wind brushed his hair against his cheek. It didn't look like anything alive had been here for a very long time. He hauled himself to his feet, brushing the dirt off his pants. "Nope. Sorry, I don't recognize it."

"You are standing in the heart of Gotham City, on the street you call "Blood Alley", the angel said sadly.

"That can't be!" Dick said. "Gotham is a city with thousands of people in it. There's nothing here. Not even buildings." He looked up. "And the sky should be blue, not red." His eyes widened and his stomach clenched. "What happened? Did I do this?"

"No. I don't think that your interference was significant enough to cause this. It just shows the way that events are tending along the timelines. There is a very good reason for the task I was allotted," Tathenniel approached Dick. "I apologize for hitting you, but I was upset at the potential risk your presence might cause."

Dick looked around at the barren landscape. Now he could see hills and lumps that might be the remains of buildings. "No people?"

"No." the angel replied. "They are long gone."

"Just what is this cataclysm you're so terrified of? And how do I fit in?" Dick asked. "Please...isn't it time you told me what this is all about?"

The angel sighed and rubbed his eyes. "My job is to maintain the balance along the time lines. Because the Creator's children are all given free will, it is inevitable that some timelines will end in disaster. But a few years ago, I saw a trend that would destroy not just one, but multiple timelines affecting your universe. And many many others. I and my associates traced the trouble, much like following the vibration on a single spider web until we found two potential turning points. These were spots where the destiny of the multiverse was determined, by the resolution of a single life. Conner Kent's. And yours."

"But I'm not that important in the greater scheme of things," Dick said. "I mean, I've helped out a bit, here and there, and maybe..."

"Saved the world a few times with the Titans?" The angel quirked his lips in a half smile that reminded Dick suddenly of Batman. "But who you are and what you do affects others, Dick." The angel paused, gathering his thoughts. "I recall an ancient proverb that goes something like this: for want of a nail, the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe, the horse was lost. For want of a horse, the rider was lost. For want of the rider, the battle was lost. For want of the battle, the war was lost. You," the angel pointed at Dick. "And your friend Conner are those tiny elements whose absence or presence can destroy the multiverse...What was your relationship with Bruce Wayne?"

"What?" Dick was startled at this change in direction. "Um...I guess we get along okay. I mean, he adopted me, so he's my father now."

"And his feelings about you?"

Dick's face turned red and he rubbed his neck uncomfortably. "Well, he's the only father I had, growing up. I'd do anything for him. All he has to do is call. I mean, he took me in when I was orphaned and nobody wanted me. He raised me. I owe him. I know that he loves me, he just doesn't show it much. Bruce is pretty stoic. You have to know how to read him."

"You have seen his reaction to your death; he has found it very difficult to recover from your loss. Now that Alfred is dead, how do you think he will handle his life? Is he strong enough to weather the storms that will come?"

"I…think so," Dick said uncertainly. "He's Batman. He's always been a pillar of steel in the face of…well, of everything."

"And when everything he values is taken from him? His family? His children? Even his mind? What then?"

"Just what is it that you think will happen?" Dick demanded. "What are you going to do to him?"

"I will do nothing. Hurt, under the influence of Darkseid, has already begun the process. Darkseid himself will continue it. Bruce Wayne is only a mortal man."

Dick frowned deeply. "Darkseid isn't infallible. He's been beaten before."

The Angel only gave him a worried look. He waved a hand and the column reappeared.

* * *

Two men stood in the library in the library at Wayne Manor. Alfred lay in a silver casket banked with lilies, wearing a black suit. The younger scowled and tugged at his tie. "It feels like we just did this..for Dick," Tim said.

"We did," Bruce sighed, voice hoarse. "Too many funerals."

"This one shouldn't have been needed," Tim said. "You aren't going to let Jason stay, are you? Not after what he's done…"

Bruce laid a hand on the side of the casket, clearly wishing for a good dose of Alfred's most sarcastic wisdom. "Tim, the Manor is his home. I'm not kicking him out. Alfred himself didn't blame Jason for what happened."

"Alfred was always soft-hearted," Tim grumbled. "If Jason hadn't turned tail, Alf would be alive right now. Jason's always been more concerned with himself than with others."

"I'll leave right now if you want me to," Jason's voice came from behind them. "Just say the word, Bruce. But you, Replacement, you don't give me orders. Ever."

Tim rounded on Jason, teeth clenched. "You have no right to be here, coward! You left Alfred to be swarmed and murdered by the Black Glove! You were the only one who could have saved him but you ran instead. You have no right!"

Jason moved to within an inch of Tim's sweaty face and glared down at him. "I have every right! I was at Batman's side while you were still on the playground. Alfred was as much my grandfather as he was yours. He gave his life to save mine! And if you don't back down, I'll make you regret it!"

"Why you...!" Tim snarled as both boys lunged at each other.

"Stop!" A single harsh word came from Batman and they stopped dead. "How.. **dare**.. you! This man took care of you, of all of us, without asking for thanks or praise. Timothy! How many times has Alfred sewn up your wounds? Sat by your side when you were injured?" He turned to the older boy. "Jason! You don't know what this house was like after Joker killed you! Alfred mourned you as sincerely as I did. If I'd lost a son, he'd lost a grandchild. You're right, Alfred did die for you and he never regretted it. How dare you two conduct yourselves like this now? You both will carry yourselves with the dignity that Alfred's passing deserves. Do you understand me?" With flaming eyes, Bruce Wayne glared at each of his sons, making them wilt with shame.

* * *

The scene in the column shifted again, flashing to Wayne Manor. In the parlor, several tables were set up with food on them while a small group of people milled around. Dick noted that they were all dressed in black and thought he could guess why.

Bruce Wayne stood before the tall double windows and stared out over the grounds. "Bruce? How are you doing?" Clark Kent asked softly.

"How do you think?" Bruce answered, his voice dull. "Alfred raised me; for years, he was the only family I had. I've lost him. He didn't even die a natural death..." Bruce said unsteadily and went silent.

"He was a great man," Kent replied smoothly. "Most people don't know how vital he was to your mission. But we know and we'll remember him." He watched for any more signs of emotion on Bruce's face and saw none. "Have you had any luck with Ra's al Ghul?"

"If you mean, have I found Dick's body yet? The answer is 'no'." Bruce said. "Ra's denies ever having had any contact with Simon Hurt. I...I have to believe him. I feel helpless. And worthless. The man who raised me was murdered under my own roof! I couldn't keep my son from being killed and can't even find out what Hurt did with his body...All the while, I was busy talking to ghosts and touring Gotham on foot! Hurt's done it. He's won." Bruce bent forward, fists on the sill of the windows.

"Bruce, you can't give up. You've been through some terrible times before and come back from them," Clark said, gripping his friend's arm. "When Bane broke you, you thought you'd have to retire but you didn't. You returned and you beat him!"

Bruce turned reddened eyes to his friend. "I had help; I had other people... I just never realized just how much help I had."

"You have Tim," Clark insisted. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Tim left before the funeral. He blames Jason for Alfred's death and says he won't set foot in the Manor as long as Jason is permitted here. I've lost him," Bruce said, face wreathed in pain.

"What about Jason?" Clark asked indignantly.

"Gone, too. There was an...altercation...yesterday. Tim and Jason got into it...about who was at fault in Alfred's death. I stopped them and thought I'd shamed them into behaving properly. Jason was gone this morning. I don't know where he is, although he's welcome to come back. I was firm with Tim; I don't blame Jason and I know that Alfred didn't. But I'm alone, now."

"Not entirely," Barbara Gordon, overhearing the conversation, had wheeled herself over. "I'm here if you need me. And so is Dad."

Bruce smiled at her, emotion flickering in his eyes. "Thank you Barbara. I've always known that I could count on you. I appreciate it."

Clark was silent a moment, thinking. "Bruce, I hate to bring this up now, but it may be what you need. I have a case I'd like you to look at."

"Now?" Bruce asked with dismay.

"Now. And you're our best chance of solving this. Someone has murdered Orion, one of the new gods and you're the best detective we've got."

Bruce looked around at his post-funeral guests and steeled himself to go into social mode. "All right. We'll discuss it tonight in the cave, when everyone else has left."

* * *

Dick Grayson was frustrated. No, he was more than frustrated, he was furious. Both of his idiot brothers had left Bruce alone, when they should have been gathering around to support him. Worst of all, Dick didn't dare interfere, he wasn't sure that Tathenniel wouldn't toss him down to the bottom level of Hell if he tried anything again. He willed himself to patience and sat to watch the column.

* * *

The discussion took place, not in the Batcave but in the conference room of the Watchtower. Superman was glad to see that Bruce looked happier being put to work.

"As Green Lantern just explained, Guardian archives described Ryan and his people as 'New Gods', which ought to give you some indication of the power levels we're dealing with," Superman explained to the assembled group.

"Evil gods, evil people. Different universes, same dumb. I prepared a detailed dossier for those of you who haven't encountered these beings before," Batman said.

"Unfortunately, Orion's murder seems to confirm some of our fears. Incidences of contact the gods of New Genesis and Apokolips have been on the increase," Superman said.

"If the evil gods are anywhere on earth, it's imperative that we find them before they strike," Wonder Woman said urgently.

"Agreed," Batman said.

Superman stood. "These are celestials capable of cracking the planet in half and enslaving billions. Justice League condition Amber."

* * *

The images swirled and came to a stop, showing the Justice League, all of its members grouped in a green force bubble on Mars. Dick recognized the rocky terrain with red-orange soil, but was shocked when he saw the reason for the gathering. The entire Justice League stood, heads bowed, around a coffin with clear a glass top. "Oh no, not Martian Manhunter…" Dick moaned.

"The first of many, I fear," Tathenniel said.

Superman, standing before the coffin, gave the eulogy. "J'onn J'onzz was my friend. Always there, always strong, always reliable… He was someone I could confide in. Someone who understood what it was like to lose a world and find another…"

Dick studied Batman's face as his father attended yet another funeral. He could see that Batman's icy reserve was near to cracking as he faced yet another death of someone close to him. Dick could have wept for Bruce's pain and wondered how much longer the man could hold up.

The scene shifted to the Hall of the Justice League. Superman led the small group of the Flash, Wonder Woman and Batman into the medical bay, now converted into a forensics lab.

"J'onn J'onzz is dead. Orion is dead! The Justice League no longer has access to the instantaneous mind- to- mind contact J'onn's telepathic skills provided…" Diana said, voice troubled as Batman bent to study the scans of the dead body..

"Say no more, Diana. The global superhuman community is on priority alert. Batman…" Superman said.

"According to my sources, the Secret Society vowed revenge on J'onn after he impersonated blockbuster recently. This was an execution, organized- crime style. Orion is something else, but I've asked the Flash there to investigate some potential leads that could link the killings."

Wonder Woman looked over her shoulder. "Someone's coming… Green Lantern."

Green Lantern entered the room, followed by an alien woman who glowed bright green. "Guys, my superior officer…" Hal Jordan said.

"More members of the local crime-fighting club, Jordan?" The woman said in a harsh voice. "How much do these extracurricular extractions compromise your job as sector protector, I wonder. When did you last spend significant time on Heliopolis, M'Brai, Athmoora, or any of 1000 inhabited worlds in your sector?"

Jordan frowned, folding arms against his chest. "Earth has a habit of attracting trouble, Alpha Lantern Kraken. As you can see, the victim here is of celestial origin.

"Then it's important to work quickly before his body sublimates back to the source. Unfortunately this backwater lacks the technology to accurately determine the cause of the so-called god's death…"

Batman's voice and demeanor were icy. "He was shot. The internal promise consistent with the blast pattern of the bullet detonating inside Ryan's heart. What kind of bullet remains to be seen, since it left no other trace of its passage."

"X-ray him again, Lantern Kraken, you'll see." Superman urged.

"Someone shot a god and left no wound? I think not." Kraken snarled.

"I maintain he was shot." Batman crew even icier, if possible. "That's why I instructed one of your officers to re-examine the crime scene for a bullet. John Stewart is another valued member of our…_ crime-fighting club ._" The irony in Batman's voice was undisguised.

"You instructed Lantern John Stewart 2814.2? On whose authority?" Kraken demanded.

Wonder Woman, herself looking irritated approached Kraken and tried to rest a hand on her shoulder. "Sister…"

"I am **not** your sister. **I** am in charge of this investigation! By orders of the Guardians of the universe who police countless worlds, including this one." Kraken angrily rebuffed Wonder Woman's peacemaking attempt with a sharp green flare of her personal force field.

"I don't remember voting them in," Batman commented over his shoulder to Superman.

Realizing that this was somehow going all wrong, Jordan said, "Batman. Guys. Alpha Lantern Kraken is one of the best investigators in the corps. I'm sure we can all work together…"

"This is a job for trained professionals," Kraken moved away from the Justice League with a sniff. "And I believe your duty shift is over, Jordan. We'll call you in the morning."

* * *

Dick sighed with relief. Bruce was holding it together despite Kraken's sarcasm. Maybe this was what he needed most, the tasks to occupy his mind and training that would take his mind off his losses. The images in the column swirled and presented another scene of the Hall of the justice League.

"Like I said," Superman said. "There was an attack on John Stewart and the Alpha Lantern investigating the case has determined that Hal Jordan was responsible. He's been arrested and returned to Oa for trial. Kraken, the Alpha Lantern believes that he's also responsible for the murder of Orion."

Batman, following Superman past the decorative fountain that fronted the Justice League's Hall, frowned. "Look, I was never Jordan's biggest supporter, but this just doesn't scan. Don't tell me you trust Kraken."

"If she's wrong, and I'm sure she **is**, it shouldn't take us long to prove his innocence," Superman said with a look of disgust on his face. "I only need an hour or two. I know you can hold the fort until I get back. Dr. Mid-Nite and Wonder Woman are with John right now, administering purple ray treatments. If we assume Kraken's wrong we still have a god-killer at large. But if I don't show my face as Clark Kent at the daily planet, I blow my secret identity out of the water."

Superman gave a brief wave goodbye as he leapt up and took flight, leaving Batman to shake his head and mutter under his breath, "Superman, Superman…"

Batman found his way to the medical section. Once inside, he saw a glowing green body levitating three feet off the floor. Standing next to it was Kraken. "Alpha Lantern Kraken, we need to talk about Jordan." Batman took a closer look at the floating figure, which seemed to be melting. "What's happening to Orion?"

Kraken cast a disdainful glance at the Bat. "I already told you. The body of a God is mostly energy. It sublimes without a trace. And as for Jordan…" She folded her arms over her chest and turned away. "This is not the first time. He was once possessed by Parallax, the fear-thing. Many thousands died as a result." Her voice faltered and she began to shake, her green light dimming.

"I remember. Are you all right?" Batman asked.

"Help me! She's eating my mind alive… " Kraken bent over, extending her right hand palm out. Her palm was glowing bright green in the pattern of a green lantern ring. "Tell them our weapons don't work… Tell them…" She gasped. "No! Why are you looking at me like that?"

"That imprint on your palm…""Batman said thoughtfully, and reached out to grab her wrist.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She shouted as her entire body began casting off bright sparks and her wrist lit up.

Batman clamped his hand around her wrist and shouted, "Black alert! Seal the Hall of Justice! And get me back-up now!" He forcibly brought her arm down and pointed her palm away from him. "John has one hell of a right hook, doesn't he?"

"Stewart is critical. Wonder Woman cannot leave him… But Dr. Mid-Nite is already responding to your alarm. He will arrive in exactly thirty-five seconds, but even he, to his eternal, punishing regret…" She brought up both arms and pointed her lantern ring squarely at Batman's face. The ring let off a blinding flash of green light, extending into tentacles which surrounded Batman and brought him to his knees. "… Even **he** won't reach you in time. Did you hear that sound like thunder? Are you afraid at last?" Her entire body began glowing, the light rivaling a young sun. Batman cowered before her, trying to shield his face and eyes from her power.. "Did you think the gods would tread lightly when they came among you? Into the boom tube with you. The new plaything for Granny. The life you knew is over. Mine now."

She grabbed Batman and carried him through the boom tube into a large, industrial warehouse filled with machinery and other things Dick couldn't identify. Dick thought it was the warehouse until he realized that the floors were covered with blood and the room consisted of tables occupied with different life forms attached to tubes and restraints. Kraken carried the semi- conscious Batman to a machine that enclosed his body but left his head and shoulders free. She locked him in.

Two men approached Batman and looked up at him. Dick recognized the first as a television preacher he'd seen once or twice. The second man was a detective Nightwing had worked with a few times, Dan Turpin.

"It's wrong to pity the week. Mister Simyan and Mister Mokkari will back me up on that. Won't you boys?"

"No. How did I get here? This ain't right…" Turpin said.

"Where the new gods fell, what chance have Earth's primitive strongmen against all the armies of Apokolips? See, we started rounding them up already!" The preacher crowed with delight.

"Turpin looked around wildly, pistol held loosely in his hand and muttered, "Oh God, oh Jesus. There someone in my head."

"They're coming to get us all." Batman shouted. "Warn the justice league! Warn everyone!" He cried out as the helmet came down on his head.


	19. Breaking the Bat

Author's Note: A majority, but not all, of the dialogue is taken from Batman RIP and the Final Crisis by Grant Morrison. I've added my own touches, of course :) But for sheer evilness, I bow to the master.

CHAPTER 19

"What can we do?" Dick asked frantically.

"Nothing, I'm afraid," Tathenniel replied. "My son, even if you were to repeat your foolish act and dive into the column it would not work. Bruce saw you before because he had the remnants of the drugs running through his system. The hallucinogens allowed him to accept your presence and to see you. You will remember that nobody else saw you. At this point, Bruce would not see you either. Nor can you affect his surroundings. All there is for you to do is watch."

"Yeah," Dick said with a shiver, eyeing the bleak surroundings.

The column came to a stop and focused in on two men in the Batcave. Alfred brought a tray with a sandwich to Batman. "I've seen that look, and men's eyes on the battlefield. Living on ten minutes sleep a day. And it's working, isn't it? It's chasing away the demons," the butler said with a sharp British accent. He set down the tray and walked away from his master, commenting over his shoulder. "All you want to do is fight on and on. After a while, all you want to do is feel the thrill. The adrenaline burn."

A gravelly voice came from the cowled figure at the computer, "I'm not chasing thrills. I'm crushing crime. I'm saving lives."

"What about your own? You had quite a sense of humor when you were little boy. It is needed now, Sir. The way you were punishing yourself, you'll be dead in six months. That's not what _they_ wanted. Sir." Alfred stood behind Master Wayne's chair, waiting for him to respond.

"Alfred, please, regular problem-solving micro sleeps are all I need," Batman bent to his task, back rigid.

"It's not my place to say, Sir, I'm well aware. And I'd urge you to consider your responsibilities to Wayne Enterprises somewhere on your list of problems. And to Miss Madison. And to Bruce… Master Bruce?" Alfred became aware of a low snore emanating from the chair. He rolled his eyes and gave a heartfelt sigh. He turned to leave the room then heard Batman mutter under his breath, "Hmm. Of course. Doctor Death was supplied by Apex chemical."

The scene shifted. Dick saw that Batman was fighting two huge brutes. Although Batman ultimately won he took a lot of damage. Then it showed the Batcave, where Alfred was stitching up Batman's wounds.

"… tickets to the circus?" A very battered Bruce Wayne asked incredulously.

"Apparently they're very good. You promised you' d take **one night** away from crime and horror… And quite frankly these latest injuries give you no choice. Oh, and I've informed the media you had an accident practicing for the polo championship," Alfred said blandly.

Haley's circus... Dick watched his parents fall to their deaths through Bruce's eyes. Bruce's mental shout came through the column as Bruce ran towards the sobbing eight-year-old in the center ring. "Oh my God, that poor kid. I have to help him!"

The next scenes were very familiar to Dick, although presented through Bruce's eyes and voiced with his thoughts. He watched a young, wide-eyed Dick Grayson being introduced to the Batcave for the first time. Saw Batman's smile when the kid looked the setup over thoroughly, then said, "Okay. You need any help?"

Bruce mulled over the effect Dick Grayson had on household. "It was as if color had come to our monochrome lives. No secret death wish could survive contact with that 'blitz of a boy', who always seemed to be everywhere at once. Everything… changed. The darkness I had lived with for years began to dissipate. Everything the boy touched...lit up." the column glowed with a brightly clad boy dressed in red, green and yellow, eagerly following Batman and helping to take down the criminals of Gotham.

The scene shifted to the Batcave again. A weary Robin climbed the stairs up to the Manor at Alfred's urging and Batman's command. Alfred was tidying away some souvenirs while Batman gave him a progress report. "…so now he's back in his cell but Gordon tells me there's talk of the old Arkham Asylum reopening. That's more appropriate for the Joker." Batman grinned and shook his head. "He and Dick had a laughing contest, can you believe it? Three years ago this man was a merciless killer. Even the Joker can't resist him."

"Ah, the good old days…" Alfred said. "And the outcome, need I ask?"

Batman's grin grew broader. "The Joker gave up, wheezing. Too out of breath to escape." Batman grew solemn. "Sometimes it seems like our entire lives these last couple of years belong in the black casebook, Alfred."

Dick found himself grinning back at the column. "I remember that Bruce used to smile a lot more back when I was kid. Somehow the criminals weren't as vicious as they are now. But he never told me how important I was to him," he said wistfully. "I always did my best, but I felt like I came up short."

The column showed Batman in his chair in the Batcave. "When did it become like some endless game show? And what's the connection between the chemicals and the crazy people? Oversized typewriters? Giant teddy bears? It isn't just Joker, but somehow all the criminals seem obsessed with bright colors and childish themes. Is it the drugs they take? How do they think? Joker especially. If I could only get inside his mind…"

"Whatever it is, they certainly turned the place into toy towns, Sir. Pop criminals, I believe they started to call them," Alfred commented.

The scene shifted again to Batman and Robin in the Batcave. Batman held a card up with an amused smile. "The Joker left a card, an ace. Card begins with a 'C'."

Robin looked thoughtful. "Sea, like ocean."

"Remember it's a playing card," Batman prompted.

"Playing 'C'…'C' playing… Holy seaplane display in Gotham Harbor!" Robin's jubilant look lit up the room and Batman couldn't help smiling back.

Later, the criminals caught and Robin upstairs sleeping, Batman pondered the case. "All of this is for him. I hate the pranks and puzzles. I'm tired of playing games with clowns , quiz masters and circus people. I trained to be a soldier. Crime. Madness. Horror. These are the things I understand."

Another voice filtered in, not Bruce Wayne's. "Batman was, customarily, ahead of the curve as they say. He keeps coming back… different. I think he re-creates himself constantly… We need to make sure he's carefully monitored in case his original… his original persona resurfaces."

Dick startled. "Who's that? I don't recognize the voice." He turned to Tathenniel. "There's someone inside Bruce's brain."

"Yes, the effect of the helmet," Tathenniel said. "I believe I can narrow the focus. Hmmm... Yes that should do."

The image shifted back to the warehouse and a strange, claylike figure appeared. "That almost looks like Clayface," Dick commented. "But it can't be. Clayface is in Arkham."

The figure had to arms to legs and huge rocklike body with a lumpy head. The mouth opened and a low growly voice came out, saying a single word, "Hurt."

The other voice said, "The Lump! A new kind of weapon for a new age of terror. Telepathic, parasitic, hiding among Batman's recollections in the form of his oldest ally. All the while triggering, sorting, filing, converting memories onto **our **database, along with his biological material."

Alfred and Bruce climbed the stairs up from the Batcave. "Now that Tim and Jason have left, it's just you and I, Alfred. Moving to the penthouse makes sense since the boys have left and Dick is dead. Although I maintain that Jason will always have a place in my home, regardless of what Tim believes. So, this dream…"

"Dream…" The Lump murmured.

"Not so much a dream, Master Bruce, as an idle fancy I came across him on my own papers. I made up a story once, when your spirits were at rather a low ebb, as a way of putting things in perspective," Alfred pulled a small leather book from his pocket and handed it to Bruce. "It's the story of a world without Batman. And I wrote it not long after my own unlikely death and resurrection."

Batman halted and turned searing blue eyes at 'Alfred'. "Yes, and now I'm sure you're not Alfred… I buried Alfred. You just gave yourself away. Whoever you are. Whatever this is. I'm coming to get you," Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Alfred is gone. What are you?"

Dick whooped. "You go, Bruce! Keep fighting!"

The image of Bruce shimmered as the scene shifted to a night in Blood Alley, twenty years ago. Two men struggled outside of a theater. The taller man, in a long coat, wrestled the gun away from the thug. "I've got him! It's all right, Bruce! I'm coming to get you."

The woman in pearls held her son close. "You're safe. Mommy's here. Mommy's here." The scene shifted. An adult Bruce Wayne wearing horn-rimmed glasses, stood uncomfortably in front of his elderly mother while she tied a scarf around his neck.

"Mother, please. It's not even cold out," Bruce whined.

"I don't care. You know how you catch cold every winter," she finished wrapping the scarf and her son slunk out.

Running down the long steps of the Manor, Bruce saw his father standing next to the car. "What the hell is this? I have lunch and cocktails planned! And get another visit with my psychiatrist ."

At the base of the stairs Thomas Wayne said irritably, "They need both of us at the hospital. Some grinning mental patient has poisoned the reservoir. There was no one to stop him." Wayne and his son climbed into the limousine. "Hundreds of people are sick or dying, so try to wipe that look of disinterest off your face... Alfred. Drive."

Alfred looked in the rearview mirror and his eyes met Bruce Wayne's. "Sir."

The scene shifted to a rainy morning in Gotham. Alfred drove a car occupied by Bruce Wayne in the back seat. "Sir?" The butler prompted.

"Hmmm?" Bruce replied. "Oh, Alfred. Sorry… Miles away." He put down the papers he'd been studying. "Every time I look at these case files my mind starts to wander."

"I was just saying that the new police Commissioner has his work cut out." Alfred said.

Bruce looked down, frowning through his glasses. "Yes. Poor Gordon – – no one deserved to die that way... Do you ever imagine you're someone else, Alfred?" The images swirled briefly solidifying into an image of Batman fighting Man-Bat, then shimmered out and returned to the car and its passenger. "Someone… Exciting." Bruce looked out the window thoughtfully.

"I like to read, Sir. That's my outlet. Mysteries, unlikely tales. Blood and thunder, you might say," Alfred replied.

"I don't suppose you remember that terrible murder case, a few years back? Circus boy." For a moment, Bruce's face took on a mix of rage and grief. He removed his glasses and, agitatedly, began to clean them . "His parents were assassinated by chemical racketeers and he went out on his own to… Well, to avenge them, I suppose…" He scrubbed at his glasses even harder. "The Joker Killer kept the boy alive in a room for ten days. Filmed the whole thing. They never found the body..."

"I still say lethal injection was too good for that grinning bloody monster. What, may I ask, Sir, would bring that to mind?" Alfred asked.

Bruce slid the glasses back onto his face. "Well that's the thing… I keep thinking I could've saved the boy somehow. I don't know why. I can't seem to get it out of my head." Face still sad, he looked out the window at the rain streaming down.

The image shimmered and shifted to the bloody warehouse. Batman, encased in the machine and helmet, groaned and struggled against it. Dick, watching, discovered that he himself was huddled on the ground holding himself tightly. He desperately wanted to close his eyes but didn't dare. "I suppose there's nothing I can do," he said to the angel.

"You may not believe this, but I find this as upsetting as you do. But the process must be completed," Tathenniel replied. Dick nodded bleakly.

The image of Batman swirled away to be replaced by Dr. Bruce Wayne in his examination room with a beautiful, and familiar patient. "… Looks like it's healed up perfectly, Ms.… Barr, is it?"

"Yes, yes of course… But you must call me Elva, **dear** Doctor Wayne. Has anyone ever told you, you have eyes like Steve McQueen?" Her sparkling green eyes met his and she stood up with a cat-like grace. "I don't give up my number to just anyone, sweetheart… Gold-diggers, as you know. I just have this feeling my poor arm may need a more private, thorough and possibly candlelit examination…"

A blushing Dr. Wayne took the small card she gave him. "Wow. I… I'll call you."

The scene shifted to Bruce Wayne's office. He sat, hands covering his face in frustration and embarrassment. Doctor Thomas Wayne stood in the doorway, hands aggressively in pockets. "Her name is Selena Kyle, a common prostitute, con woman and thief. While you were making goo goo eyes, she stole your watch, your wallet, your keys and half the contents of the hospital pharmacy. It's bad enough that you are a laughingstock, Bruce…"

Dick couldn't help a small smile. In his entire life he had never seen Bruce so embarrassed. "This… This isn't real. This could never happen."

Tathenniel nodded. "I think we need to see more closely." The picture shifted back to the warehouse. Two figures in lab coats hovered around the Lump. One was a man, with a long black birthmark or mask covering his eyes. The other was some kind of sentient great ape. The human said, "You say these false memories are supposed to keep him busy while we steal the real ones. His worst fears unfolding, blinding his mind towards our piracy? I don't trust him, Mister Simyan. This Batman has a reputation." The apelike creature made a growling noise.

Dick uncoiled and approached the column. "Selena Kyle? They're still picking information out of his mind and warping it somehow. C'mon, Bruce, fight it!"

The man continued. "… see how he almost detected the Lump's presence in his mind? Now do you understand why, with his superior physical prowess, his strategic acumen make him unique? These are traits we must steal, duplicate and mass-produce!" The man waved his arm to show the hundreds of clone bodies lining the walls, each waiting patiently to be fed its program of Batman's memories and personality traits. "Perfect copies, driven by a concentrated dose of his intense emotions, his fury, his pain, his drive."

The ape made a noise and the man replied, "Exactly. With this template we will build a production line Army of mindless 'Batmen' to fight and pillage and die in the name of our dark Empire. That will be his legacy. He'll yield up all his secrets to the Lump, you'll see." The man lit a cigarette. "And when the Lump is done, we will gut Batman for spare parts, without anesthetic, I should think. And that, Mister Simyan, will be that."


	20. The End of the Light

CHAPTER 20

The images moved again. Scenes from Bruce's life began to flash across the column faster and faster. Dick saw himself grow from a frightened eight-year-old to a self-confident 17-year-old. He watched the Joker shoot him in the shoulder and his fall down ten stories to a narrow ledge. Dick's own heart felt sore when he saw, first Bruce's anguish and then his anger when he fired Dick for carelessness. "I'm sorry, Bruce," Dick muttered, then sat up straight when he saw the next set of images.

"This vault beneath police HQ was built to hold so so-called monster-men back in the Hugo strange days," the cop said. "You'll spend ten days here in complete isolation, simulating the effects of loneliness during spaceflight."

A thin man in a white lab coat approached. "Batman. Your identity as the subject of these tests, will, of course, be kept strictly confidential." He reached out and shook Batman's hand. "Hurt. Doctor Simon Hurt."

A gray mist seemed to cover the images in the column finally resolving into a vision of the Batcave. But it wasn't the same Batcave that Dick was familiar with. The floor was spattered with blood. Hanging from the ceiling were no longer bats, but human bodies. Two men dressed as gargoyles operated the crave mainframes, as a tall man swept down the staircase from the Manor. "Good. Very good. I see that all is in hand. Would you please bring out our hostage?"

Second gargoyle darted behind the Crays into the darkness and returned, wheeling a bound and gagged Barbara Gordon back to the center of the Batcave. "Miss Gordon, it's a pleasure. Or should I call you Oracle?" Hurt said genially and removed the gag.

Barbara's furious eyes all but shot sparks. "You may have defeated Checkmate, but there's still a resistance out there."

"I see." Hurt smiled at her indulgently, as one humors a child. "You are the one who pulled the plug on the internet, preventing a fast spread of the anti-life equation. No matter. We were delayed but not stopped. Your allies are divided and the war all but lost." He turned away, returning with a laptop.

"Just who in the Hell are you? Where's Batman?" she demanded.

Simon Hurt looked away from Barbara Gordon, seeming to look out through the column, making eye contact first with Tathenniel, then with Dick. With a smug smile, he said, "I am the hole in all things. I bring Hell on Earth and the world to debasement. I am the Piece that can never fit." His tongue darted out and wet his lips. "So, you are watching the timelines are you, old friend?"

Tathenniel stiffened. "I was never your friend."

"And you have the boy there, too. Pity he was snatched away before I could use him to break Batman, but he isn't dead yet, is he? I'll have him yet. Nice to meet you again. Boy," Hurt's eyes glittered and Dick took a couple of steps back from the column.

"He...uh...can't get to us, can he?" Dick said nervously, suddenly wishing he had his escrima sticks on him.

"No, he can't," Tathenniel said. "You don't belong to him and neither does Bruce Wayne."

"Ah, ah, ah," Hurt said, shaking a finger. "That isn't quite true. If you're examining the timelines, that means that he isn't permanently dead yet. We will meet again, Dick. I promise you that. I may not kill you, but I will despoil you and everything that means 'Batman', I promise that. I can't have you now. But wait...just wait..." The image of Hurt faded out, leaving the column empty and gray.

Dick was shaken to his core. "Just...what was that?"

"He has many names; I won't speak them now. He is allied to the Opposition in this war," Tathenniel, clearly pondering, bit his lip and stared at the grayness of the column.

"What happens to me if I'm really dead? Or if I'm sent back, for that matter?" Dick asked. "I've fought demons before, but he's in a class all his own."

Tathenniel just gave him an inscrutable look. "Are you beginning to see the importance of the work I am trying to do?" He approached the column and made a gesture. The images began again.

"Are you sure that's safe? I mean, do you want to get another call from Happy, there?" Dick uneasily.

"We won't hear from him again. I've warded it," Tathenniel said absently, studying the images that were forming.

An adult Bruce Wayne, accompanied by Alfred strode across the lawn of Wayne Manor, both wielding flashlights in the dark night. They approached the old dry well under the trees.

"Your mother appears to be utterly convinced that the dog found his way into the old well, Sir. And if she finds out I allowed you to talk me into this misadventure…" Alfred cast a nervous look at Master Bruce.

"My mother is determined to prevent the possibility of danger or excitement entering midlife, Alfred." Bruce flashed him a quick smile. "Hpph! Sometimes I wish they had died that night. They have talked about nothing else since."

Ability own room, well Bruce is going. "She does tend to be someone overprotective, Master Bruce, but surely that something you can understand… Sir, I know you don't mean that, Sir!" He peered down into the darkness of the well.

"Maybe not, Alfred. Maybe I wish it'd been me." Bruce found himself in an underground river. He looked around and saw a cavern with stalactites above him. "Hmmm. This is odd… Ace? Ace, are you there, boy? "

On the surface, a large German Shepherd jumped on Alfred G, barking happily. Down below, Bruce had stopped in shocked silence. The decayed skeleton of a woman in an evening gown lay crumpled before him. He recognized the gown, the one his mother had worn that night in the theater. He looked closer and saw the gleam of her pearl necklace. "Oh my god. Alfred."

The scene twitched to the Lump, howling in its chair. "Change his mind! Change his mind, NOW!" it bellowed.

The two scientists, one human, the other simian, frantically worked on the connections that tied the Lump to Batman. "I knew it! Batman's fighting back!"

The image shifted away to Batman triumphantly bringing down another villain. "Close one, Mister Simyan," the scientist sighed with relief. "The brute's no good to us awake. Only in the world of the mind is the Lump the master."

Simyan nodded and gave two grunts.

Batman's mind moved to an image of Bruce Wayne, jogging in Gotham Central Park, accompanied by Alfred on a bicycle. "...Maybe I work better with a partner. I don't know," Bruce panted. "We're developing a few cranky routines, you and I."

"I can't imagine what could make you think that, Sir," Alfred replied. The scene shifted to a familiar face.

"Jason?" Dick said, wonderingly. Then he chuckled as he watched what the boy was doing. "Wow. He really was boosting the tires on the Batmobile when Batman met him. Doing a good job, too." The scene shifted to Jason's training and then his first appearance as Robin. Dick watched as Jason went through the potential Robin uniforms offered for his choice, including, Dick noted, one uniform with long pants. He was touched when Jason stopped at the case that showed Dick's discarded Robin outfit.

"If I get a choice," Jason said softly. "This one. The real thing."

Dick noted Batman's smile of approval at Jason's choice, then saddened when the view shifted to a despairing Batman, stumbling away from the charred ruins of a building with Jason cradled in his arms. "Awww, Jay..." Dick moaned softly. He hadn't been to Jason's funeral; he'd been off-planet at the time. He hadn't found out until he'd returned. And then, Bruce had been abrupt and angry, seeming to blame Dick for being alive when Jason had died. He watched the column and remembered the heartbreak as Alfred put Jason's torn and bloody uniform in a glass case where Batman could, at his insistence, see it every day.

"It wasn't your fault, Bruce. I know I blamed you; told you that you hadn't trained him well enough but I was wrong. It really wasn't your fault," Dick said earnestly to the column. "I guess I figured out when it was my turn that this is nature of the job. It's dangerous and some of us die." Dick realized that he was crying. He absentmindedly wiped his nose on his sleeve, something he hadn't done since Alfred had forcibly taken over inculcation of manners into a young circus boy. "Dammit, Bruce, I want to help. I always wanted to help you. You need me now, and there's nothing I can do..." He felt a hand on his shoulder. For once, the Angel was looking at him kindly.

"I can see why the love between you two is so strong. That's part of the reason I am here. And part of the reason you are here, and I'm allowing you to watch this progression. I don't know Bruce Wayne, but you do. And I what I see before me I think that he must be a fine man and a hero. Be patient and say a prayer or two. It can't hurt." With that, Tathenniel bustled his way back to the column, watching intently.

A saddened Dick Grayson watched Tim Drake's father murdered and a terrified Tim being comforted in an anguished Batman's arms. Then he saw himself leaving for college and waving good-bye to a saddened Bruce Wayne. "Wow. They're really hitting him hard," Dick murmured.

"He's putting up considerable resistance," the angel said. "That's a good sign."

The scene shifted back to the warehouse. The human scientist just stood before capsules containing multiple clones of Bruce Wayne. "This is what! What emotional energy!" He shouted to the. "More pain, Mister Simyan! More emotion! Keep him so busy experiencing that he cannot fight back!"

Mister Simyan, his face showing a gorilla-grin, made happy sounds and adjusted a dial.

The scene shifted to the Gordons' apartment. Barbara went to answer a doorbell and found herself faced with the Joker, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a malicious grin.

"No. Not that. Batman wasn't even there when that happened!" Dick backed away from the column and turned his head away. "None of us was there...I should have been..." His voice dropped to a whisper.

"They are planting false memories as well as enhanced memories. It appears that they're trying to keep Batman from fighting the process," Tathenniel shifted the scene and squinted at the clones. "It doesn't look like it's doing the clones any good, though."

Dick turned back to the column and watched the clones begin to writhe and struggle. "No," he said. " It doesn't look like they're taking to it at all."

The two scientists turned to each other in terror. "What? Batman's manipulating the Lump somehow? That's what I said! So who do we blame if all of this goes wrong?"

Mister Simyan uttered a dismal growl.

"We must intensify the process. Keep him from fighting back."

The images cut to a painful image of Bain, Batman lying across one beefy knee. Dick turned his head away but still heard the loud *crack* as his adoptive father's back was broken.

Alfred's voice came wafting from the column. "Your back is broken. For the love of reason, Sir, let someone else take up the mantle of Batman. Or shall we extract some other agonizing memory to flay you with? Shelley remind you Sir, of how easily everything you need was unraveled by a chaos you could never hope to contain? If only you'd listened." The pictures swirled until they settled on a familiar battlefield.

Dick saw himself standing next to Batman, and little in front among the wreckage. Alex Luthor drew close and aimed an energy blast at Batman. At the last minute, Nightwing caught a glimpse of Luthor and threw himself in front of his father, crying out "Batman!" As the air sizzled with the light of a dozen suns, Batman turned and watched his son collapse under the onslaught. "Nightwing!" he cried in anguish.

Dick saw himself crumple, then Batman and Robin rush to his side. Batman cupped his cheek and ran a hand down it while Robin searched vainly for a pulse as Dr. Mid-Nite and Wonder Woman began running to the scene.

"Those poor boys, dragged into **your** mad dream of vengeance, death and madness. When will the absolute failure of your mission to defend Gotham become as apparent to **you** as it is to others?" Alfred's voice said, edged with contempt.

Batman, crouched on the battlefield, looked away from his dead son. "I've heard it all before. Show yourself."

"You'll have to forgive me, Master Bruce. The Lump is...is using me to speak through." The battlefield evaporated. All that remained was Bruce Wayne in a gray, amorphous space. An image of Alfred appeared and then shimmered out to be replaced by the Lump.

"How can you fight me? I am life without form. I have no nerves. I feel no pain. In the kingdom of pure thought, the Lump reigns supreme. In your mind, the Lump can be anything! Do **anything**!"

Batman just glared at the Lump. Dick recognized the glare; it had terrorized a hundred villains in Gotham City.

"Your enemies have operatives and technology beyond your capacity. They're stealing your DNA. Your memories. To imprint unstoppable soldiers. Driven by **your** trauma. "

"Then tell them they can **have** it," Batman said with soul-deep weariness. "If you can bear it all at once."

The grayness faded and the images coalesced into the battlefield again. Batman scooped up a gun and ran after Alex Luthor, murderous intent clear on his face.

Batman's train of thought came through as Bruce's soft voice emanated from the column. "Oh my God my God… Dead…my son...my boy...the only Light in the dark...dead...And that worthless bastard shot him down...dead...Never more swing through the night sky, watching Robin laugh with joy...So proud of him...best thing I ever did was raise that boy...only good thing I ever did...Gone...He didn't deserve this. So young, so much to look forward to...didn't deserve this...this...No more light in the darkness!" The last phrase came out as an agonized scream of endless pain.

"What...Do...You...Deserve?" He demanded of that helpless, wriggling, slimy, sluglike worm of a man. Batman raised the gun and watched it tremble as a lifetime of rules and values ran through his mind. "No...doesn't matter. Darkness wins after all...Robin is dead...he's dead...I don't want to live. Let it come. Let death come for me after all. I caused this. I caused this. I put him in the suit. I taught him everything I know. I should have known...I was warned...I should have known. My fault. My fault. Let the darkness come. I don't care anymore..."

He squeezed the trigger and felt a fierce joy when the gun bucked in his hand and red blossomed between Alex Luthor's eyes. He watched with satisfaction as the life faded out of those repellent blue eyes.

"Do you want some more?" Batman murmured in a mental voice gone rough. "Here."


	21. The Anti-Life Equation

CHAPTER 21

The column shifted to Batman, kneeling in the wreckage and cradling his eldest son to his heart as he began rock, his body shaking with dry sobs. A man's agonized cry emanated from the pillar, clearly not heard by any of those surrounding Batman.

"What...what is that?" Dick asked softly.

"It's Batman. Mourning for you," the angel said.

The column then showed Batman, alone in the Batcave. He sat in his chair, staring fixedly at Jason Todd's uniform, stained and ragged, hanging in its display case. Alfred came up quietly.

"Are...you quite all right, Sir?" he asked tentatively.

"I have to kill the Joker, Alfred. If I don't, he'll just murder more people and spread more suffering. Today it's Jason, and the grief he's caused our family. Who will it be tomorrow?"

"But if you kill, you become just like him," Alfred said gently, worry in his eyes. "You took an oath not to kill for a valid reason, and we've discussed this before." He moved to stand in front of Batman, forcing him to pay attention. "Killing, even once, even with reason, strips you of your humanity. I do not mean this in an abstract way. Though we move about the world as individuals, the human race as a whole is spiritually...a single entity. You cannot afford to revoke that citizenship. You cannot work meaningfully _for _humanity from _outside it_. I know you know this. I know _you_."

* * *

The next vision was of Bruce Wayne, sitting at Dick Grayson's graveside. "I did it, Dick," Bruce said. "I crossed that line. I killed somebody. No, I murdered somebody. With premeditation. And, I'm ashamed to say, I enjoyed it. I broke every vow I ever made about how I would conduct my life. I've dishonored myself. I...I'm just glad you weren't there to see it," Bruce looked at the soaring angel that topped the plinth. "You would have walked away from me, then. And I know just the look you'd have given me; the same way I've seen you eye Two-Face. What was it you said about him? A moral black-hole with nothing left inside." He was silent for a long moment. He put his hand against the sun-warmed marble, then leaned against it. "I'm sorry, Dick. I'm so very sorry. I know how much you looked up to me and I've betrayed that...I don't know what to do now. I feel like my entire life has gone off the rails. Jason has killed, in my presence and I didn't stop him. I am a murderer myself; I have no moral authority now. I'm as bad as he is. Would you believe that I'm even letting Jason, of all people, teach me how to shoot." He laughed bitterly. "I never thought that day would come, but somehow it has...and I don't know how to stop," he said in quiet despair. "I...I wish you were here, Dick. Somehow, you always knew the right thing to do and insisted on it, even when I disagreed."

Tathenniel watched the column thoughtfully. "Bruce Wayne rarely shows his feelings, preferring to keep his heart hidden away-a form of self-protection, I suppose. But, having been forced to relive his life and his pain, he seems to be willingly releasing all those pent up emotions and is using them against his captors. See the effect it's having on the clones..." the angel said.

* * *

The scene shifted to the warehouse and the two frantic scientists. "So much for motivation!" The human said. "The psycho-merge is killing these weaklings! How does Batman process this degree of stress? And how do you suggest we disconnect our so-called 'new kind of weapon'?"

The ape made an aggressive noise, then picked up a gun and aimed it at the Lump.

"I feel nothing," Alfred/the Lump said to Batman. "Your purpose is served."

"There are still memories left to process," Batman said mildly. "I can take it if you can."

The Alfred/the Lump recoiled in pain from the first bullet. More followed. "Why?" Alfred/the Lump cried and dropped to the Batcave floor. "I did as I was told!...My body...dying..."

"Interesting," Batman said. "The chemicals I kept thinking about...are sedatives. I can taste them." He knelt down next to the fallen butler/Lump. "I'm restrained somewhere. Unconscious. I need you to get me out."

"I...I think I'm dying, Sir. I'm so sorry." 'Alfred' said.

"Alfred has always been on my side," Batman said softly. "I need your help."

"In life...I'm immobile...useless...a lump..." The 'Alfred' appearance faded away to be replace by the true form of the Lump.

"If I die, we both die," Batman said. "If I live, you live on in my memory, Lump. You know me now as well as anyone. I'll find the men who killed you. Need a jolt to get you moving?"

The column focused again on the two scientists. The human put another bullet into the Lump. "Leave his belt!" instructed the human. "Leave everything, seal the laboratory and let's get out of here! What kind of man can turn even his life memories into a weapon?"

One of Batman's memories appeared. In the lab at the Justice League, Batman was examining the bullet that killed Orion. He dictated to a mini-recorder. "Recording: The bullet killed a being from a higher world. We know that there are more like him. And, I'm sorry to add, forensic facilities here in the Hall of Justice need upgrading beyond late 19th Century standards," he added drily. "That's why I need to examine the evidence back in the Batcave. " He removed the radion bullet from the analyzer and tucked it into his utility belt. "I will return it," he finished.

The warehouse was in chaos. The frenzied clones were breaking their glass cases and clawing their way out, shrieking. The Lump hauled itself upright and began to lumber down the building.

"'Immobile', you said!" The human scientist shouted as the Lump pushed by. "Keep it away from the controls! Simyan!"

The Lump activated the release control, just as it disintegrated into a pile of dirt and rubble. The scientists scuttled from the room, slamming the door behind them. The human peered through the porthole window. "He's trapped in there. Go!"

Mister Simyan made a plaintive noise and shambled away, the human following closely.

* * *

Free of the capsule, Batman hauled the helmet off. The room smelled like a prison hell of antiseptic and chemicals where the dead men in the jars all had his face. He shuddered and crept past the remains of the lump, then saw the table with his utility belt and hurried towards it. With trembling fingers, he held onto consciousness and fastened the belt. He regarded the scientists' gun, left on the table. Digging into his belt, he found the radion bullet. He loaded the bullet into the gun with a sense of satisfaction. He was ready.

* * *

"I believe that we are approaching the turning point," Tathenniel said, tensely. "Let us look in on the rest of the world." The column began showing pictures of cities burning, battles waged in cities under a looming red sky. And everywhere, on screens and signs, spray-painted on the remains of buildings he saw...an equation?

"What is that? Some kind of political slogan?" he asked.

The angel gave a pained smile. "That, my son, is your heritage. The anti-life equation gives Darkseid his power. He had to come to Earth to find it, carried by every human on this planet. He is using it to conquer and destroy everything you have ever known, from matter to space to time. Ultimately the multiverse. The equation is written in your genes; in the DNA of every human being who ever lived. Once...long ago...there was a war between the forces of what you would call Good and the forces of Evil. Evil won and every human since has had this...taint."

Dick's face took on a flush. "Now, wait a minute...When we used to summer in Florida, Mom made me go to church and take catechism classes. Old Father Michael used to tell us about something called Original Sin. You can't mean..."

"You're the one who has called it that. I say nothing except that the taint is within you and all humans. That's why Darkseid finds Earth such fruitful ground and why he's been so successful."

Dick watched as the terrified people of earth looked into the screens and accepted the power of anti-life, then lost themselves. "It's like they're zombies..." Dick said. "It has...power...over them."

"Zombies have more volition than these poor people do. Having accepted the Equation, they belong to Darkseid now. They are his arms, his eyes, his tools. He will drag them down to Hell and destroy their souls. Now is the crux. Let us see what Batman does."

* * *

The darkness of Batman's thoughts was apparent to those who watched the column. He hefted the gun experimentally, anticipating the kill to come. "He'll probably kill me as I shoot…I've got to act fast and get him before he manages to kill me. Time to end this. All of it. I'd hoped to leave a tradition behind when I died, but Alfred's dead. Tim's gone; lost his respect for me. Jason—Never had a chance to train him out of his anger. Never was able to. This is all my fault. One son bitter, another emotionally crippled, the third one...so talented...he grew into a truly good man, a better man than I could ever be and I didn't protect him well enough. Maybe my time is done. Maybe it's better that way. I'll go down, but at least I'll take that bastard with me." He grimaced. "Maybe there's an afterlife. I'd like to see Alfred...and talk with Dick again...oh my son...my boy..."

Batman crept through the building until he found the chamber where he knew that Darkseid would be. There was a kind of humming in the air as he approached and slipped through the door.

Darkseid sat in his chair. "I wondered when you would show yourself," he rumbled. "Stop stalking in the shadows. Accept that the Equation is proven. Embrace Anti-Life and be whole."

Batman froze as the words went home. Be whole. What was that? He hadn't felt whole since his parents died. Later, when Dick had come into the Mansion, he'd felt more like a complete person than ever before, but now… that was gone. All gone and the darkness was taking over. Looking at Darkseid, he was conscious of the weight of myth and centuries hanging over the god. Everything that happened now was fraught with meaning, multiple layers.

"Darkseid, you look like I feel. You shouldn't have shot Orion," Batman stepped from the shadows, gun in hand.

"It was Orion's destiny to fall in 'final battle'. Splintered like light through a prism in an infinite number of deaths. And you, can you say that you regret killing your son's murderer? Some would say that your simple act of revenge was unjustified."

Batman's eyes flickered briefly as the pain closed around him. "I… I felt it was justified at the time. Now, I know that murder is wrong."

"And yet, you plan to murder me with that gun, don't you?" Darkseid asked. "You suborned the Lump through a rational argument. Turn your excellent mind to your current problem. If you shoot me, I assure you that I will kill you, and you'll take your world with you."

Batman raised the gun. "You're a liar. You always were."

"Then hear this truth," Darkseid said. "You don't want to shoot anyone, but you have killed. You broke your most solemn vow to do it. What drove you to it? Pain. Grief. Loss. Your life has been dogged by these, hasn't it? You've fought against it, tried to occupy your mind with good works but no matter what you did, you lost the ones you cared about. Still, there is a solution."

The gun began shaking. "What's that?" Bruce couldn't help answering.

"Embrace the Anti-Life Equation and be free. What has happened is past and done. It's time for the future, free of pain," Darkseid's voice was deceptively gentle. The screens on the walls around him began popping on, each showing a single image: the Equation. "You're a brave man and a strong one. You've endured this long, fighting it, but even strong men can break down eventually."

"Hurt didn't break me," Batman gritted. "Neither did your Lump."

"No, they didn't," Darkseid said, his voice honey-sweet. "But I know your deepest longings… for connection…. for family… friends. I can give you that. Many of your superhero friends have already embraced Anti-Life." He gestured toward one screen. First Green Arrow, then Wonder Woman appeared, fighting for the Anti-Life armies. Batman watched her in horror when, without warning, the screen shifted to the Equation. He found his eyes glued to it, he was unable to force them away although he fought as hard as he could. But he was so tired...so very tired...

"No… no…" Batman protested weakly as his brain was invaded by a soothing, comforting presence. The pain was ebbing away. The aching loss he'd felt since Dick was killed was… being filled with something else. Purpose. Completion. As the last of his own will began to sift away, he realized that no, Hurt hadn't broken him. The Lump hadn't broken him. The compelling grief of Dick's death and the revenge he'd taken had set the first deep cracks in Batman's confident facade. The entire structure of his life, his soul had begun crumbling on that day. Alfred had died and the process hastened. . .When Jason and Tim abandoned him, there was nothing left, except a determination to survive. But why fight so hard for life? There was nothing left...nothing but Anti-Life.

Batman dropped the gun as the Anti-Life filled him. At last, Bruce Wayne pulled back his cowl to focus glowing red eyes on his new master.

"NO! Bruce...!" Dick jumped up and raced toward the column. This time, Tathenniel's long arm stopped him in his tracks.

"No," Tathenniel said simply. "If he is to escape from this trap, he must do it himself, without your help. You're dead, remember? We MUST know what will happen in the event of your death. Do you understand?" Tathenniel demanded, shaking Dick's forearm. "And besides, Darkseid is a god. Batman won't be able to see or hear you, but I assure you that Darkseid will and so will Simon Hurt, who is Darkseid's ally. You can't help him."

Dick stared deep into the angel's eyes for a long minute, then pulled his arm away. He silently moved back to his old position and remained there, watching the column. "What do you expect to happen?" he asked.

"Understand, that when Darkseid fell, he created an anomaly, a sort of black hole that draws everything attached to it and him into a Hell dimension. For lack of a better term, the war broke time and space. If he is not stopped, all the multiverse will be subsumed into the Fifth World of Darkseid. And then will begin the night of anguish that lasts forever. Three billion people have become Darkseid and Batman will lead his armies."


	22. Not With a Bang, But a Whimper

CHAPTER 22:

"This is the way the world ends,

Not with a bang, But a whimper"

T.S. Eliot

"There's nothing we can do? I know I keep asking this, but..." Dick clenched his fists.

"I understand, son," Tathenniel said. "It's hard to watch the ones we love in such trouble."

"Not in trouble," Dick said. "Destroyed."

"We're nearing the end of the timeline, which, by itself, gives me cause to worry," Tathenniel said. "Look."

* * *

Two armies faced each other in front of the ruins of Bludhaven. Wonder Woman, backed by other Female Furies, stood in red armor and a red mask. Behind her massed a thousand Justifiers in iron masks with matching weaponry, a howling mob with glowing red eyes behind them.

Next to Wonder Woman stood a tall man in a black cape and cowl with glowing red eyes.

Facing them, Superman led a mixed army of Earth's superheroes and humans, looking weary but determined. Dick spotted Robin in the ranks, with Arsenal on one side and the Titans on the other. It gave him a little bit of comfort to know that his little brother still had friends to support him.

Superman spotted Batman in the enemy host and signaled for a parley. Batman strode forward across the broken dirt to meet Superman in the center. Dick saw Tim start and begin to move forward, before being hauled back by Arsenal. Good. Someone was looking out for the kid. Roy knew that something was wrong if Bruce was on the wrong side.

The image honed in on the two heroes at the center of the field.

"Bruce! What's happened to you?" Superman demanded.

"I am Darkseid," Batman replied. "All are equal in Anti-Life. I am here to give you a chance to embrace the Anti-Life Equation and be free."

"Free? No! It's tyranny, Bruce! You know better than this!" Superman said.

Batman smiled. "I'm at peace, a kind of peace I've never known. I take it that your answer to my offer is 'no', then?" He reached behind his back and pulled out a gun that had been holstered there. Batman's gaze faltered, the glowing red in his eyes flickered. His hand, pointing the gun at Superman's chest, faltered.

"You don't want to hurt me, Bruce," Superman said. "Fight it! You, of all people can overcome this." He reached out his hand. "Give me the gun, Bruce. Come back to us."

Batman visibly fought against the invader that possessed him. But the flickering in his eyes slowed and then stopped until his gaze showed a steady red glow. "There is no escape from Anti-Life..." he said triumphantly, although Dick thought he read sadness in his eyes.

"It won't make any difference," Superman said, striding forward. "I'm immune to radion in any case."

Batman fired, hitting Superman square in the chest. As green fire began to envelope the Man of Steel, Batman said, "I know. But not to a kryptonite bullet."

Seeing Superman down, the superheroes charged forward and the battle was joined.

* * *

"It's as I feared," Tathenniel said to a Dick Grayson shocked into silence.

"How...? How could he do that? Clark was his best friend..." Dick asked in a broken voice. "He's known Clark for years..."

"It wasn't him. He was the tool of Darkseid," the angel said heavily. He sped up the images in the column. "So. Let us watch the dominoes fall."

* * *

They watched as the battle turned, first for one side, then the other, until finally, Darkseid's forces charged over the bodies of the heroes, Batman in the lead. Those heroes not killed were forcibly assimilated into Anti-life. Dick watched as Batman lifted Tim by the cape and forced him to submit to Anti-Life. They didn't get Roy. He went down fighting and didn't rise again. He turned his eyes away from Donna, Garth and the surviving Titans with glowing red eyes.

The unchanged humans were hunted down by the helmeted Justifiers and forcibly brought into Anti-life. Those who were immune were summarily shot. A few, a very few humans eked out a bare existence like rats in the walls of a derelict building. They hid and scuttled out when they could to find food and water.

Soon, gravity began to be affected by Darkseid's presence. Dick remembered that at Darkseid's heart was a hellish black hole. As gravity bent, so too did time and matter. Reality warped. Time sped and slowed in the red light of a destroyed world. Eventually chunks of other universes already destroyed began to fall, as well as the bodies of the strange people and creatures that had inhabited them.

He'd run out of tears to cry for his world and his family. With dry, sore eyes, Dick Grayson, once called Nightwing, saw the JLA Watchtower break into pieces in orbit and burn up on reentry. Four Green Lanterns hovered outside the red planet that Earth had become, helpless. They had used up all the power in their rings. There were no more defenders left.

One by one, the stars went out as Darkseid spread and merged with the planets Granny Goodness had appropriated, until all was one in Darkseid. In the center of the maelstrom sat a black hole. First it was tiny, then it grew in size as it ate time, matter, and whole universes.

At last, Dick and Tathenniel were left floating in an inky darkness. The planet had disappeared. All that was left was the column and they, themselves. "Where..." Dick cleared his throat. "Where are the stars?"

"Gone," the angel said softly. "All gone. Fifty two universes. An untold number of galaxies, destroyed. Sucked into the singularity at the heart of Darkseid. And with them, all the people who lived, loved, fought, prayed..."

Dick asked. "How... how did this happen?"

"You died, my son. This is the result," Tathenniel said. He flicked his hand and suddenly they were standing on the green, sunlit grass again. "We had originally thought that Superman would fail after Conner's death and that your death would have less effect on the multi-verse. You were, after all, merely the protégé of Batman, and not of Superman, the central figure in this war. We were wrong. Without Batman to shoot the fatal bullet into Darkseid, the god was not weakened unto death, allowing the Flashes to lead Death himself to Darkseid. As Darkseid's tool, Batman never shot Darkseid.

"At full power, Darkseid sent Batman to shoot Superman. Without a Superman to rally the supermen of the various Earths, there was no effective defense of the multiverse. Most importantly, with no Superman to build and power the so-called Miracle Machine, the Multiverse must fall. In the other timeline, where Conner dies and not you, the final crisis will still be a near thing, but a strong Batman and Superman will bring about a victory." The angel paused and mopped his forehead. "I am so sorry, Dick. You have to go back. You must live," the angel said, with compassion in his eyes. "Everything depends on it."

"Where are you sending me? What part of the timeline?" Dick asked, remembering the ruins of Bludhaven.

"You will return the instant before you were hit by Alexander Luthor's power bolt. Alas, you must experience the pain again, but be assured, you will survive. Conner Kent will be the sacrifice, not you. I am sorry, Dick. All I can promise you is much pain and much adventure." The angel smiled. "And a great deal of love."

"And there's no way to prevent Conner's death? None?" Dick asked.

"None," the angel said firmly. "And now, you must go back to your life. Farewell, Richard Grayson. I will see you again."

* * *

Before Dick could ask to say goodbye to his parents, he was swept up in a white wind that rolled and buffeted him until it finally planted him on a battlefield. He heard his own shout, "Batman, look out!" and saw Batman's horrified expression as he called out "Nightwing!" and heard Robin's "Ohmigod!"

The next instant was filled with a white-hot fire exploding in his chest. So much for the Kevlar/Nomex weave, he dimly thought as the scorching smell of his own flesh burning assaulted his nose and he let out a scream. _So, this is it, huh?_ was his last coherent thought before the darkness took him away.

He felt himself being lifted in someone's arms. Through a haze, he saw Wonder Woman's face. "Where are we taking him, Mid-Nite?" she asked.

A blurry Dr. Mid-Nite swung in on a line and said, "Someplace safe."

_Look at them. Trying to save me_, Dick gave an ironic thought to his situation. His chest no longer hurt and he knew that was bad. Any burn that deep had destroyed nerve tissue.

The next time he swung into what he recognized as consciousness, he saw Dr. Mid-Nite leaning over him, pulling off the ruins of his Nightwing uniform. Still didn't hurt. What was the man saying? "Stay with us, Nightwing!" And then he saw an anxious Babs at the end of the bed, pushing herself closer.

He remembered the grassy field and his parents. Something had clearly gone wrong with Tathenniel's plans. _I don't mind dying, but, Babs...I'm sorry I won't be there for you._ He shakily reached out his right hand to her and closed it over hers. He'd have some words with Tathenniel when he saw him again. Maybe they could still make some changes on that negative timeline...He let his eyes begin to close, surrendering to the inevitable.

Barbara's voice interrupted his reverie, sharp with anger. "Come on, Dick. You're a fighter. Fight! For us! Fight...for me...!" Her voice faded away into the darkness.

He was suddenly angry himself. _I can't let it end like this! I can't let her down again. _He started to fight, determined to find his way back to her. Instead, he opened his eyes to an empty...morgue? He felt fine. When he looked down, his Nightwing uniform was whole, without any damage. _Where is she? Where did they take her?_ He started running down a tiled hallway lined with drawers. She was here, somewhere. He had to find her.

A gruesome Batman clone with burning red eyes crawled up to him from one of the drawers and lisped, "She's where she belongs, Dick! She is with us!"

Nightwing sprang back in horror and saw that the end of the hallway was torn away, showing a red sky. He was in Bludhaven and Darkseid had taken the world. He backed away and was grabbed by a mummified Deathstroke. "And she wants you to join us, kid!"

The Batman clone grinned and put him in a chokehold. Dick smelled the odor of corruption rising from the two zombies that held him. He began to struggle, then noticed a third zombie approaching.

"Where is she?!" Dick demanded as the third long-dead body towered over him, red eyes glittering. Ra's al Ghul.

"Welcome to Hell, Nightwing!" His voice sounded like dry, dead leaves whispering across a tomb.

Hell. Well, Tathenniel had as much as threatened it after all his interference. Didn't matter. Babs needed him. He threw the Batman clone off easily and stomped Darkseid into a dozen dry pieces. "You can't escape us! You can't save your girl!" Ra's whispered and lunged for him.

Dick leapt away from the Batman clone's clutching grip and took Ra's down with a kick. "Maybe not. But-I'm sure gonna try!"

When he landed, the three zombies were unmoving pieces on the floor. Nightwing straightened up, determined to find Barbara. As he turned, he saw the face he'd hoped not to see.

A brightly smiling, very alive Simon Hurt, still dressed in Thomas Wayne's bat-costume, blocked his way. "You'll fail her, Grayson," he said confidently. "Just like you failed Bludhaven!"

Dick froze as Hurt moved in on him. He knew that Hurt was different. He'd even managed to manipulate Bruce. Dick got angry again. "That's the way you work, isn't it? You play on your victim's self-doubts and push them into hopelessness. That way they don't fight back, do they?" He moved toward Hurt. "You don't like it when they fight back, do you? When the odds are one to one...?"

Hurt just chuckled and moved swiftly away from Dick's gauntleted hands. "You and your 'father' Bruce Wayne are caged in a trap set before you were ever born! Try to get away if you can...you won't succeed. When you wear the cowl, you'll see me again, "Hurt said, grinning, and disappeared.

Alone in the morgue, Dick stood there. "Now what did all that mean?" He set off again. "And I still have to find Babs."

In the distance, he heard gunshots and began to run. Part of the morgue had been refashioned into a target range. A row of realistic-looking Barbara targets stood at the end of the room. And, wielding the pistol, was the Joker.

"Noooo!" Dick cried and ran for him. Joker had already killed Jason Todd and crippled Barbara. He tackled the Joker before he could take another shot and wrestled the gun away from him. "Leave her alone! Don't you dare hurt her again! No! Noooooo!"

"Dick! Dick, stop that! It's okay!" he heard Barbara's voice and felt hands struggling to hold him down. His eyes opened and he found that he was in Babs' place in her bed. His hands were in the process of strangling his pillow and his chest...his chest _hurt_. Barbara took the pillow away from him and tucked it behind his head again.

"Welcome to the world of the awake. I was beginning to get worried," Barbara said, straightening the bedclothes.

"Babs?" Dick drank her in. She was whole, healthy and, best of all, her eyes weren't glowing red.

"Bad dream?" she asked solicitously.

"Y-yeah, the Joker was..."

"I get that one, too," Babs said quickly.

Dick remembered. He'd been on a battlefield when he was shot. He lurched upright, trying to haul himself out of bed.

"And where do you think you're going?" Barbara said sharply.

"I need my suit. Bludhaven...Bruce..I've got to help..." Dick looked at her and struggled against her attempts to push him back into the bed.

"What you've got to do is get back in that bed!" She snapped.

"But.."

"But nothing! You sustained some terrible injuries. We still don't know the extent of damage to your nervous system," she shouted at him as he climbed out of the bed and began to waver toward the closet.

"I'm fine. I've got to go-the crisis is-"

She hung onto his wrist. "Dick...The crisis is over. I just brought you out of an induced coma. You've been down for three weeks. And I'll have Mid-Nite put you right back into it if I have to." She leaned in and met his blue eyes with her own steely ones. "Back in the bed. NOW."

Dick silently let her tuck him into the bed. Finally, he looked at her glumly and said, "Not the tone I remember from when you used to say that."

She frowned and glared at him. Full strength.

Dick's expression became even more glum. "That glare you gave me. Wow. It was like you channeled Batman there."

Babs cracked a smile. "Maybe you bring that out in people. Ever think of that?"

Dick settled back, defeated. "Ouch. Now you sound like him."

A few weeks later, Bruce stopped by. Dick was struggling with the parallel bars and cursing to himself when he lost his grip and fell, landing hard on the mat. "Dammit, Babs! A six year old could do that routine better than I just did!"

"I don't know," Bruce stepped into the room they used as a gym. "You look a lot better than when I saw you last. You were in a coma, then." He eyed his son from head to toe. "How are you doing?"

Dick picked up a clean towel and began to wipe himself down. "I'm improving, but it's slow. I keep having these damned...muscle...spasms..." he said as a good one hit, doubling him over.

He felt Bruce tuck a hot pack against the spasming shoulder and lead him to a chair. "Relax, Dick. It's a good thing. Your body's repairing broken connections."

Dick looked up and grinned a bit, grateful that he was looking at blue eyes and not red ones. "That's what Babs keeps saying. I just want to know why they hurt so much more than the original injury!"

Bruce gave him a half-smile back. "Probably your reward for clumsiness on the field. You didn't have to take the energy bolt for me, you idiot! The warning was enough. We thought you'd been killed."

"That makes two of us," Dick muttered, clutching the hot pack as the muscle spasm slowly eased. "As a matter of fact, Bruce, I had kind of a weird experience while I was out. I need to discuss it with you."

"Oh? Fighting aliens from space who destroy worlds wasn't weird enough for you?" Bruce said blandly.

"Oh...you have _no _idea," Dick replied. "Let's just say I was given a warning for the future directed at us both. You see, I was supposed to die that day. It was my fate, you might say."

"Fate?" Bruce asked. "My first impulse is to point out that this is hardly scientific, but ...I've seen and experienced too many things over the years to dismiss what you have to say. Tell me."

"Well, for starters, how would you feel if I told you that the Devil has an interest in us? And a variety of other theological entities on various levels. It boils down to this, Bruce," Dick cleared his throat. He and Bruce just didn't have these kind of conversations. "As I said, I was supposed to have died. The only reason I didn't is because of your projected reaction to my death..."

They talked for hours and Dick confirmed things he had suspected about his adopted father, but couldn't prove: how deeply he felt, how strongly he loved his family, that he felt responsible for his boys' well-being and ached when he couldn't protect them. He also felt that he'd been able to impress on Bruce the importance of preparing for the next crisis, whether Dick was dead or alive to see it.

Later, after a punishing round of physical therapy supervised by Babs, who must have been a Nazi in a prior life, he was able to settle back in bed to rest. It was good to be back. He was looking forward to the yearlong cruise Bruce had planned with his small family. He was beginning to hope that if Nightwing ever was killed in action, Bruce would not let grief stop him from carrying out his mission. "If he does, I'll come back and haunt him, I swear..." Dick muttered. "And I don't care how mad Tathenniel gets."

This crisis was over. When the BIG one hit, he'd be ready.

* * *

**Author's note: **Well, that's it, troops. Again, thanks to Ellen and PJ, my stalwart betas.

I hope you enjoyed the story; please review if you did and even if you didn't. I find it helpful.

Much of this story did not originate in my fertile mind. Much of the dialogue was taken directly from the writings of Grant Morrison and folded into my own work. I truly hope that the seams don't show, but it's hard to tell. They guy is a genius.

A shitload of research made up this story. The entire tale is more sprawling and obscure than Virgil's Aeneid in the original Latin! Here is a limited bibliography of works read, consulted, used for research or directly quoted in the writing of this story:

100 NW 116 et seq, NW Annual #2, Gotham Knights 21, Infinite Crisis, Final Crisis, Infinite Crisis Companion, Final Crisis Companion, Batman 156 "Robin Dies at Dawn" part 1; Time Masters Vanishing Point; Batman R.I.P.; Summaries of Final Crisis:  . ; theannotatedfinalcrisis/final-crisis/i

Wikipedia Article: wiki/Final_Crisis


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